


When I Make A Promise

by fallingwthstyle



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-18 07:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10612350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingwthstyle/pseuds/fallingwthstyle
Summary: Four days after the events of "Dude, who ARE these people?" Kenny discovers that Mr. Stotch's "grounding" of Butters can be far more abusive than he or any of their friends had ever imagined. After rescuing him, Kenny makes Butters a promise that, when the time comes, Butters isn't sure he'll be able to keep.





	1. You're Not A Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this here with a few badly needed edits to celebrate the three-year anniversary of its completion on FFN. Comments are much appreciated!

Kenny stopped beneath a street lamp to light a cigarette. It had been a great Friday night. He had spent the last three hours getting high with Clyde Donovan and a couple of his work friends, and now was enjoying the walk home, his head buzzing pleasantly. Clyde's friends always had the best pot…and the walk home was always one of the best parts of his week. It was almost midnight, and getting cold now that winter was coming, probably near freezing. The full moon floated high overhead in a cloudless sky, lighting everything with a bright silver glow. Kenny pushed the cigarette to his mouth through the fringes of his parka and took a deep drag, enjoying the world.

  
It wasn't by accident that he had stopped underneath this particular street light; he stopped here often during these walks home. It was a convenient half way point between Clyde's place and his; plus one house over from it was Butters' house, and he looked up at the window he knew was Butters' room. The light was off tonight; it was 50/50 whether it would be on or off at this time on Friday night, like a bet between God and Satan, and Kenny hoped he was having a good evening and wasn't grounded or something else stupid that his father dreamed up to make his son's life miserable.

  
Something about Butters intrigued Kenny. He was a long way from being Kenny's type, but Kenny thought that Butters would make an awesome boyfriend to some lucky guy or—less likely—girl someday. He got picked on a lot (including by Kenny himself sometimes), but afterward he always had the same quiet dignity about himself, and whenever he took a really strong stand on one side of some disagreement he found himself in, he didn't back down, and he was often right in the end. Kenny secretly respected the hell out of him for that, even more so as they'd made it through their sophomore and junior years of high school and were now seniors.

  
Kenny took another drag from his cigarette. He would finish this one, then light another and start walking the last mile or so to his ratty little house; it had become his ritual for walking home from Clyde's on Friday night. He looked up at Butters' window one more time, lit a new cigarette from the end of the old one and started walking.

  
He was passing Butters' driveway when he began hearing a strange noise. It was a keening high pitched sound, like one a wounded animal might make, a kitten with a broken leg freezing in the bushes perhaps. Kenny stopped again to listen. It didn't sound like a kitten; he didn't know _what_ it sounded like. It started like a puppy's whimper, then grew to an almost human wail of pain, then trailed off to a whimper again. It kept repeating, and Kenny looked around and took a couple steps onto the Stotch's lawn to listen closer. It sounded like it was coming from outside Butters' house, maybe in the back yard.

  
"Butters!" The unmistakable sound of Stephen Stotch's voice came from inside the house. "Be quiet and go to sleep now!"

  
Oh Jesus, Kenny thought. That sound is coming from Butters? What is that sick son of a bitch doing to him now?

  
"Yuh…yes sir," Butters' voice sounded miserable. That noise started again, quieter this time. Something was very wrong here; Mr. Stotch's voice had come from inside the house, but Butters' was clearly coming from outside it, around back. Kenny hurried past the Stotch's garage into Butters' backyard and looked around.

  
There was a porch on the back of the house with a barbeque and some patio furniture. A mostly deflated beachball was sitting on one of the chairs, its bright colors spooky gray in the moonlight. Several pieces of a Lawn Darts set were piled up next to the steps leading from the porch, and on the other side of the porch was a rather large doghouse, a dog's tie-out chain starting at a thick post in the ground and snaking inside the door. Those awful sounds were coming from inside it. Kenny sprinted the last ten feet around the porch to the doghouse, crouched down on all fours and looked inside. What he saw was heart breaking, and all he could manage to say after taking it in for a few seconds was "…the fuck is _this?_ "

  
Butters was crouched in the far corner, the chain trailing across the wood floor, up his side and ending at a thick metal collar around his neck. He was wearing only small white socks, a very short pair of cutoffs, and a plain white tee shirt that was too small even on him. He had what looked like half of a bath towel wrapped around his shoulders, and when he caught sight of Kenny, he cowered into it.

  
"Oh hamburgers!" he cried fearfully. "I'm gonna be in trouble now!" His teeth were chattering furiously; he looked like he was freezing to death.

  
"Butters?!" Kenny crawled inside, ducking low to crawl through the door. The air in here was stale, and only slightly warmer than it was outside.

  
"Oh I'm sorry Kenny!" Butters' voice was forlorn. He was trying to apologize while in agony. "I don't usually m-make this much noise, but it's so cold tonight, I don't think he-he knew it was this cold—" His teeth chattered uncontrollably, and he stopped talking and made that wailing sound again, unable to stop, trying to wrap himself tighter into that pathetic towel when he ran out of breath.

  
"Your father did this to you?" Kenny asked angrily. He straightened up as best he could inside the cramped dog house, shrugged out of his parka, and wrapped it around Butters, trying to get the hood up over his head around the chain.

  
"Oh, he didn't mean to, Kenny!" Butters said, fighting tears and losing the battle. "It's not usually th-this cold…but he grounded me, I have to be here…and Kenny!" Kenny didn't think it was possible for him to look even more frightened, but he did. "You have to go! I can get in so much trouble—"

  
"Bullshit, Butters!" Kenny took the towel that Butters had been trying to cover himself with and tried to wrap it around his legs. Butters was shivering so hard, his teeth chattering continuously, that Kenny feared for him. He knew something about dying from hypothermia, and this kind of cold could cause a heart to stop…at least after a few more hours of the kind of agony Butters was in. "I am NOT going to leave you here like this. You'll freeze to death! I want to go in your house and stomp your dad's face—!"

  
"No Kenny, don't!" Butters tried to grab him to stop him from going, but he was so cold his arms barely worked. "Maybe you could find me a blanket…but then h-he'll just see it in the morning and know someone saw me here, and—" He made that awful wounded animal sound again, only this time it ended with a throat tearing sob followed by a whisper. "Please…just go."

  
"No, Butters." Because he didn't know what else to do, Kenny crawled the rest of the way over to Butters and wrapped an arm around his shoulders over the parka and pulled him close, trying to warm him. "I'm going to get you out of here."

  
He studied the collar around Butters' neck. It was a thick shiny metal chain, its hasp was unlocked with a key, and the lock didn't look like the sort that Kenny could easily pick. That chain connected to it though…it was just a couple strands of wire braided together; a good set of bolt cutters would slice right through that.

  
"Butters, listen to me." Butters was rocking back and forth underneath his arm moaning, but Kenny thought at least maybe his shivering was getting better. "I'm going to go find a way to get you out of here. I'll only be gone a couple minutes, I promise. Will you be okay until then?"

  
"Kenny…" Butters looked like he wanted to say several things and couldn't decide on which one. He barely nodded, then pulled himself tighter into Kenny's parka and went into another shivering fit. Kenny gently squeezed his arm.

  
"I'll take that as a 'yes'. I'll be right back, Butters." Before Butters could argue, Kenny scooted away from him and crawled back outside. It felt much colder now, without his parka. He looked around desperately. The wood post holding the other end of the chain in the ground didn't look like it would budge from the frozen soil, so Kenny dismissed it. That collar would need either its key or a long time with a hacksaw to get off of Butters' neck. It had to be the chain itself then. He hoped he wouldn't have to run all the way to his house and back just to get a pair of bolt cutters. He would swipe his dad's keys and drive his pickup truck back here if it came to that.

  
He ran to the side of the Stotch's house. The side garage door seemed like the first place to try, and to Kenny's relief it swung inward when he twisted the doorknob. He stepped into the garage. The Stotch's SUV was parked inside like a giant sleeping beetle in the moonlight. There was a small work bench next to the door, and Kenny scanned the tools cluttering it, looking for bolt cutters or at least a hacksaw. He spotted a pair of large wire cutters and grabbed it. It looked like it might be able to cut through the chain, and he ran outside with it back to the dog house and climbed back inside. Butters was still huddled in Kenny's parka in the corner moaning, but that horrible sound he had been making before had mercifully stopped.

  
"Butters, listen to me." Kenny showed him the wire cutters. "I'm going to cut you free and we're going to get you out of here, okay?" Kenny held the wire cutters to the chain a couple inches from Butters' neck and tried to work its jaws into a link in the wire. He thought the chain might be too thick, but then he managed to work the wire cutters around one of the braided wires. He squeezed the handles together with both hands and for a moment nothing happened. He pressed harder, his knuckles turning white with the effort, and then felt the satisfying crunch of the wire giving way. The chain fell from Butters' neck, leaving only the collar and a couple inches of chain still attached to it.

  
"Come on." Kenny pulled his parka higher onto Butters' shoulders and they crawled out of the dog house together. Kenny rose to his feet immediately and looked around. There was no sign of activity from the Stotch's house. Butters tried to stand up, then staggered and would have fallen except Kenny was there to grab him. Butters was moaning with new pain. "I can't walk, Kenny! It's too cold, my feet are freezing—"

  
"Crap," Kenny muttered. He carefully lowered Butters to the ground and dropped down on all fours next to him. "Can you climb on my back?" Butters managed to get one leg over Kenny's back and wrap his arms around Kenny's neck. Kenny stood, hoisting Butters onto his back with his forearms under Butters' thighs. He weighed next to nothing, and Kenny headed straight out of Butters' backyard and started walking as fast as he could toward home.

 

 

 

  
art by rensrenegade

  
Butters was very light, but it was almost a mile to Kenny's house, and by the time they were halfway there, Kenny's back and legs were burning with the effort. He was going as fast as he could; every few seconds a low moan escaped Butters' lips. The little piece of chain hanging from the collar around Butters' neck made a metallic sound as it swung back and forth against the collar.

  
"You still with me, Butters?" Kenny asked when they were almost there. Butters had grown silent, and his arms around Kenny's neck weren't clinging as tightly.

  
"Y-yeah, Kenny. I think I almost fell asleep there for a minute."

  
"I'm going to get you warmed up soon and you'll be able to sleep as long as you want to."

  
Butters seemed more awake again. "Thank you, Kenny. Gee whiz, I'm awful sorry about putting you through all this." He was more alert, but not his usual self. He was still shivering and his voice was soft and miserable. Kenny could only imagine how frozen his bare legs must feel. His own arms without the parka were starting to get uncomfortably cold.

  
"Don't worry about it Butters. We're almost there." Butters pressed his face against the warmth of Kenny's neck and held on tight. Kenny carried him up his walkway toward the front door, and as he reached for the doorknob, he said:

  
"Okay Butters, listen. We're going in my house now. My parents are either going to be drunk and trying to kill each other, drunk and trying to screw, or drunk and passed out. Drunk and passed out is what we want but I'll deal with whatever. Try to be quiet until we're in my room, okay?"

  
Kenny felt Butters nod against his neck. "Okay Kenny," he whispered obediently into his ear. Kenny turned the doorknob, and still carrying Butters on his back he stepped into the small dark living room. It was perfectly quiet, which was a good sign. Kenny walked to the hallway and looked into his parents' bedroom. They were unconscious on the bed, tangled up with each other and the sheets and blankets. There were lots of empty Pabst Blue Ribbon bottles strewn around the living room floor next to a trash can full of them, and Kenny nodded approvingly. They'll be out cold until at least late morning.

  
He carried Butters down the hall into his room, closed the door, and walked over to his small bed. He turned his back to it and lowered himself so Butters could sit on the mattress. Once Butters had moved, Kenny breathed a sigh of relief, sat down on the floor, and started rubbing one of his aching shoulders.

  
"Oh Kenny, I'm sorry," Butters said in a small voice, clutching himself inside the parka harder now that Kenny's warmth was gone. "You could have put me down and stopped to rest—"

  
"That's okay." He reached up from the floor to pull his blanket from the foot of the bed. He stood up again, holding the blanket ready to cover Butters with it.

"Butters, take off my jacket and your shirt and lay on your side, facing away."

  
"Muh-my shirt, Kenny?" He was already moving to obey. "Why?"

  
"Because you'll warm up faster without it. Trust me." Kenny had to help him get the tee shirt over his head, and when Butters finally had it off and was laying down facing the wall, Kenny covered him with the blanket, then stepped back from his bed and pulled his own shirt off and stripped down to his boxers. "Butters, I'm just going to get in bed behind you to warm you up, okay?" He had no idea what other kinds of abuse Mr. Stotch might have subjected his son to, but the last thing he wanted Butters to think right now was that he was about to be raped.

  
"Uh-Okay, Kenny." Kenny climbed into the bed behind him and pulled the blanket completely over both of them, covering their heads. He carefully wrapped an arm around Butters and pressed his chest against Butters' back, and winced at the coldness of his skin. It was like cuddling up to a snow bank.

  
"Jesus, Butters…you're so cold!"

  
Butters was still trembling. "…s-so warm," Kenny heard him whisper. He carefully pressed his legs against Butters'; they were even colder than his back.

  
They lay quietly for a few minutes while Butters' shivering gradually stopped, the heat from Kenny's skin and the warmth of their breath underneath the thick blanket finally driving the chill from Butters' body.

  
Kenny waited until Butters had been still for several minutes. Then he whispered as softly as he could, "Are you awake, Butters?"

  
"…Yeah…"

Kenny gave Butters a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay?"

  
"I don't know." He sounded so sad; Kenny wished there was some way he could make him feel better. "My feet still hurt a lot."

  
"Okay if I take a look?" He felt Butters nod. He sat up, quickly replacing the blanket over Butters and moved down to his feet, which were still in socks, sticking out of the end of the blanket. Kenny carefully eased one of the socks past Butters' ankle, down his foot, and gently slid it off. Butters hissed in pain at even this slight touch. "Sorry Butters," Kenny mumbled. Butters' foot and toes were an angry red color—which meant they probably hurt like hell, but at least blood was getting to them. "Other foot now," and Kenny slowly removed his other sock as well, even more carefully this time. Both feet were the same fiery red, but there were no white patches to indicate frostbite. "They're going to be all right, Butters." Kenny gently covered them with the blanket. "I know they hurt, but they aren't frost bitten." He crawled back up alongside Butters. "Do you want me to get back under the blanket with you again?"

  
"Yes please," Butters said immediately and Kenny did, pulling the blanket back over their heads like before and pressing up against his back and legs again.

  
"It's so warm under here," Butters whispered. He didn't sound as sad anymore, just very tired.

  
"I put the blanket over my head all the time," Kenny replied. "Even if I'm alone. It's the best way to warm up." They lay that way for some time; Kenny knew Butters was still awake by the way he was breathing.

  
"You feel a lot warmer now." Kenny sighed. "Butters, you can't go back there."

  
"I know," Butters said sadly. "But I don't know what I'm going to do, or where I'm going to go…and I don't want my folks getting in trouble!" He tensed against Kenny, who hugged him a little tighter and whispered in his ear.

  
"Shh, Butters, okay. It's okay."

  
"No, it's not okay!" Butters sounded near tears again. Kenny just kept his arm around his chest and listened. "I can't let them get in trouble, Kenny! And-and he's going to come looking for me! Oh…I should just crawl back there or something." Instead he just deflated and settled back against Kenny's chest.

  
"No, Butters. You don't need to crawl back there."

  
Butters wrapped his hands around Kenny's arm like he wasn't aware he was doing it. "I know Kenny…geez, they just left me tied up out there like I was a pet they didn't want anymore." Despite the words, he seemed very calm again. "I'm not going back there."

  
"Good!" Kenny wanted to kiss his shoulder. Maybe that would make him feel better…but it might also freak him out. Instead he said, "You're not a pet, Butters. You're…well," Kenny was lost for words and could only find something he was sure would sound lame as soon as he said it. "You're a nice guy Butters. You don't deserve to be treated like that."

  
"Thank you." Usually Kenny would have expected something like 'gee, do you really think so?' from him.

  
"We're gonna work this out, Butters. I promise, okay? We'll get you out of there, someplace else, and your parents won't get in trouble…but I still want to put your dad in the hospital. I don't think you and I can do this alone, but I sort of have an idea who to ask for help." He gave Butters another gentle squeeze. "Okay?"

  
"Thank you, Kenny." The hands around Kenny's forearm squeezed back. "I trust you."

  
They lay quietly for a few minutes and Kenny thought Butters might have fallen asleep. Then Butters whispered, "Kenny?"

  
"Yeah, Butters?"

  
"I...I'd still be out there if you hadn't have found me. I'd be freezing right now, instead of here." It sounded like this idea amazed him.

  
"Yeah. I know." Kenny sighed. "I'm really glad I found you."

  
"Me too, Kenny." Butters voice was fading; a few moments later he began gently snoring. Kenny thought about pressing his lips against the soft hairs on the back of Butters' neck and planting a silent kiss there, and instead just lay behind him and listened to him breathe for awhile. 


	2. 911

When Kenny was sure Butters was asleep, he carefully slipped out from under the blanket and snuck out of his room dragging his parka behind him. He knew he was getting in way over his head with this and would need help. Butters couldn't do this alone, and Kenny knew that he alone couldn't help him. He only had a vague outline of a plan in mind with no real details, and he hoped what he was about to do was a good first step. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his parka and sent a text message to Kyle's phone:

  
_need you to call me asap 911_

  
Twenty seconds later his phone rang. He quickly answered it. "Kyle?"

  
"Hey Kenny." It was Stan. "Kyle's in the shower. I've never seen you put '911' in a text before; are you okay?"

  
"I'm okay, Butters isn't though. I couldn't think of who else to call, it's the middle of the night, and it's the kind of thing that a lawyer might need to get involved in, so I was thinking Kyle's dad—"

  
"What could _Butters_ have done that he might need a lawyer for?"

  
"I found him tonight, chained up in his backyard freezing to death inside of a dog house."

  
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, then "Jesus Christ!"

  
"Yeah. I didn't really know who else to—"

  
"Hey, Kenny, Kenny…Kyle's back now, tell him what you just told me."

  
He heard the phone switch hands, then Kyle's voice: "Hey Kenny. What's going on?"

  
"I was just telling Stan. About an hour ago I found Butters chained up in his backyard, almost naked, freezing. I cut him loose, and he's here with me now. That sick fuck of a father of his is going to come looking for him, and I'm not letting him go back there to any more of that. He doesn't want to go either, but I don't know if there's anything I can do except kill his dad to—"

  
"That bastard should rot in prison!" Kyle snapped. "He won't be able to take him anywhere from there."

  
" _And,_ " Kenny went on, unperturbed. "He doesn't want to get his parents in trouble. I know that's a lot, and I don't agree with some of it, but he insists and he's ready to dig in his heels about it. I thought maybe your dad might have some ideas. Um…I hate for you to wake him, but—"

  
"Oh Kenny, he's not even here now. My parents took Ike to some midnight movie he wanted to see. They won't be back for at least an hour."

Despite his frustration at having to wait, Kenny couldn't help but smile. "So… you two have got your whole house to run around naked in, huh? Sweet!"

  
Kyle laughed. "Yeah, something like that. Look Kenny, as soon as my dad gets home I'll tell him what you said. One of us will call you and we'll go from there, okay?"

"Sure Kyle. Thanks."

  
"Kenny, how's Butters doing? Is he…okay?"

  
"I've got him warmed up. Another couple of hours and he might have lost some of his toes though. I hope he's asleep. But…no, he's not really okay. He's scared shitless, doesn't know what's going to happen to him, and I can tell he's miserable. He doesn't have that…you know, spark…that he always has, that thing that makes him Butters."

  
"Ouch," Kyle said. "He's in good hands right now Kenny. Go take care of him, and someone will call you soon."

  
"All right Kyle. Thanks again." Kenny hung up and snuck back into his room. Kenny could tell Butters was asleep by his deep even breaths, so Kenny didn't ask this time as he gently climbed under the blanket with him again.

  
0-0-0-0-0

  
Kyle slowly closed his phone and looked at Stan. Even though they'd only been together as a couple instead of just lifelong best friends for about five days now, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Stan to be naked and Kyle to be wearing only a towel around his waist, his hair still damp from the shower. He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he settled for: "Wow."

  
"I know," Stan replied. "Poor Butters. Did I hear Kenny say that he didn't want his dad to go to jail?"

  
"Yeah. Which is stupid." He stared down at his cellphone, wishing a little that that text message had never come, or that they'd waited until later to answer it. He hoped this drama didn't spoil the mood of their last hour alone together.

  
Strangely, Butters' name had come up just a short time ago. After a session of passionate lovemaking (on a blanket on the living room floor in the same spot they used to sit and play video games and Guitar Hero as kids), they had laid together talking, and the conversation had worked its way around to the reproductive habits of various other life forms. Kyle mentioned the barnacle, which he stated "has the largest penis in relation to its size in the entire animal kingdom."

  
"And then there's the tumbleweed," Stan had said. "It just rolls around the prairies and plains, bouncing from place to place wherever the wind blows it, spreading its seeds everywhere it goes."

  
Kyle kissed Stan's chest. "Imagine if people reproduced that way. That wouldn't be much fun!"

  
"I bet Butters would like it," Stan said and they had both laughed at the images that conjured up in both of them. Kyle bounced his head gently off Stan's belly, rose a foot, dropped back to his belly and bounced again…and did a perfect impersonation of Butters' voice saying "Look! I'm Butters!" and they had laughed for two minutes, naked and tangled up in a blanket in front of the silent living room TV. Twenty minutes later, Kyle's phone had buzzed with an incoming text. They both hoped the phone call afterward hadn't ruined the rest of the evening.

  
Kyle set his phone on the living room table and turned to Stan, who automatically came to lean against him, their heads resting on each other's shoulders. "Nothing we can do now until my dad gets home," Kyle said, speaking against Stan's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around him.

  
"I can think of something," Stan replied. He waited until Kyle's body told him that it was okay to proceed. His fingers loosened the towel around Kyle's waist so it fell to the floor. "We still have an hour or so before your parents get home; come on…let's not let this spoil the mood. Butters is in good hands, like you said."

  
Kyle grinned. "Okay…where this time?"

  
Stan thought for a moment. "The kitchen!" They ran down the stairs and through the living room, Kyle pausing to grab the blanket off the floor as they hurried through on their way. 


	3. The Week When Everything Changed

Kenny learned four days ago what Stan and Kyle had done for him moments after he awoke in his bed, alive again, inside his new body. Satan showed him what had happened during the almost two days he had been dead this time the way he always did: By showing him someone's forgotten memories of it. This time it was Kyle's that Kenny got to browse through to learn what he had missed while he was gone.

The worst part of all this for Kenny wasn't the dying itself, because he had learned that, no matter how much it hurt, it would be over soon. Getting a day or two's worth of someone's memories, not only of the events themselves, but of the horror and sorrow that resulted from them, was _much_ worse.

He hated getting Stan's memories most of all. He always took it harder than anyone else, and was a complete wreck until Kenny returned and they all forgot again that he had died. Kenny was always relieved to see him looking his usual cheerful self, but he could never show it. Kyle wasn't much better, usually falling apart almost as badly as Stan, but managing to hold it together a little better, seemingly for Stan's sake. The only good part of any of this was seeing how Stan and Kyle took care of each other while they were grieving. Kenny preferred getting Cartman's memories, because while he mourned as much as Stan and Kyle, he usually did it away from his friends, usually alone in his room, in his bed crying into either his pillow or Clyde Frog. This made it easier for Kenny, somehow.

More rarely he was shown the memories of someone else: Clyde occasionally, Token and Wendy a few times, and even Mr. Garrison once. That one had been especially creepy. Satan had never shown him Butters' memories of the times Kenny died, and he often wondered why.

This time something very different had happened. It seemed that Satan intended to keep him in hell forever and not send him back, and Kenny carefully studied the memory of the Frog Prince appearing in Kyle and Stan's dreams simultaneously, and what it had led them to do in order to bring him back. He wondered if Satan and/or the Cthulhu cult nutjobs were finally tiring of this, and wondered with some dread what was going to happen the next time he died. He consoled himself by thinking it might actually be a relief that this endless cycle of dying and being reborn was finally coming to an end. He thought about how much he would miss his friends if he died and never came back; the idea that he might get to stay alive until he died of a heart attack or stroke when he was in his 80s seemed too much to hope for.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his feet on the floor, waiting for the rest of his strength to return so he could stand up, when something happened that had never happened before. Satan whispered into his ear: "Oh, you're going to die and come back again, Kenny. You can believe that."

Kenny whirled around, expecting to see the giant red doofus standing directly behind him. Nothing was there, but the faint but unmistakable whiff of sulfur stinging his nostrils told him it hadn't been his imagination. More uncertain than ever now, Kenny stood up and put on his parka.

When he approached Stan and Kyle at the bus stop an hour later, he could see them whispering together. He deliberately walked toward them as slowly as possible, giving them more time alone. He knew they had just discovered their longtime love for each other last night, and was as happy for them as anyone could possibly be. He wondered how long it would be before they told him themselves. He wanted to kneel on the ground and thank them for what they had done to bring him back (before giving them a load of shit about how it was about time they started playing with each other's dicks), but of course all he could do was say, "Hey, guys!" Kenny was pretty sure he would have been able to tell they were together now, just by the way they were standing:  _Beside_ each other instead of just simply next to each other.

They managed to keep their secret until Wednesday afternoon after school, when they were driving to the 24-hour Bennigan's next to the mall for dinner. They'd been eating there a lot recently, ever since Bebe had gotten a job there as a waitress. Kenny was in the back seat, Stan was driving his car with Kyle riding shotgun. After they had pulled into a parking spot outside the restaurant, Stan and Kyle had both looked back at him. "Kenny," Kyle had said, "Stan and I have something to tell you."

"Oh, you mean the fact that you two are finally fucking each other's brains loose?" Kenny asked, and laughed at their startled expressions; "And by that I mean," and Kenny smiled happily, "that if you two are finally together the way the universe always knew you should be, then congratulations. Geez guys, it took you long enough!"

Stan and Kyle looked happy, but surprised. "You mean…" Stan asked, looking like he was about to drop his keys. "You could tell already?"

"Guys" Kenny said, nodding happily. "This has been coming for a long time now. The two of you have had crushes on each other for, what, ten years now?" Kenny was happy to let them believe he had some kind of remarkable intuition into their lives, when what he really had was a lifetime of both of their memories. He had known for years how much they loved each other and why it had seemed important to both of them to keep that secret because of their fear of how it could destroy everything they _did_ have. Kenny had long wanted to… _interfere_ somehow to bring them together, and knew it was one of the things he was not allowed to do.

"So anyway," Kenny went on. Their faces were getting over their amazement. "It's all good, in fact it's all great. Now…let's go eat. I'm fucking starving."

Two nights later while walking home from Clyde's house, something else happened that started to completely rearrange his life, beginning when he heard what he first thought was a wounded animal in the bushes outside of Butters' house. About the time that Kenny was carrying Butters through his bedroom door, he began to think of the past few days as the week when everything changed.


	4. Great News

Three hours after Kenny had fallen asleep under the blanket with his face resting inches from Butters' narrow shoulder blades his cell phone rang, waking them both from a deep sleep. Kenny watched Butters rub sleep from his eyes as he sat up and grabbed his phone off the nightstand.

"Kyle?"

"Hey Kenny," Kyle said. "Great news! My dad explained it all to me, and he has a couple questions for you, but he said to tell Butters not to worry. If he doesn't want to press charges, nothing will happen to his parents. But it gets a lot better…here, you need to talk to my dad."

Kenny settled back against his pillow, Butters lying alongside him, propping his head on his hand. Kenny wished he would snuggle up to him again, and realized wistfully that that might be over with now since Butters was warmed up, and apparently things were going to work out for him. He heard the phone change hands.

"Kenny?"

"Hi, Mr. Broflovski," Butters' eyes flew open, alarmed, and Kenny reached out his free hand and rested it against his forearm. Kenny whispered to him: "It's gonna be okay, Butters. It's all good." Butters closed his eyes, and Kenny left his hand on Butters' arm as he listened to Kyle's dad.

"Kenny, Kyle told me about what happened. I'm trying to put something together here quickly for him. I can give you more details when we meet later, but right now I need to know: Is there any evidence there with you now that he's been abused?"

"Well, sir, there's the collar around his neck, with a little bit of chain hanging from it above where I cut it off—" Butters looked alarmed again, and he leaned forward straining to hear.

"Perfect!" Gerald sounded ecstatic. "Kenny…is there a way you can send me a picture of that? It would really help what I'm trying to do. I mean…does your phone take pictures…?"

"Yeah, it does." Kenny barely managed not to sound irritated. _Yeah Mr. B., I'm poor but I still have a nice enough phone that I can send you a picture._ "Give me a second."

He tried to look reassuring. "Butters…Kyle's dad needs a picture of that collar around your neck…for whatever it is he wants to do for you. Are you okay with that"

"Uh…sure, Kenny." He looked pretty unhappy as he straightened up and tried to pose.

"Make sure you can see his face!" they both heard from Kenny's phone as he held it up. Kenny pantomimed punching his phone with his other hand and managed to get a real smile from Butters as he snapped a picture.

"Oh," Kenny said, looking at his phone. "I'd better take another one." He showed Butters the picture he had taken. He was shirtless, with the shiny chain collar around his neck and a rather fetching smile on his face. The picture ended well below his bellybutton with no sign of the waistline of the cutoffs, and one would have no way of knowing from just the picture that he wasn't naked. Butters chuckled when Kenny said, "You look like a porn star." Kenny suddenly looked self conscious as he remembered that he had Kyle's dad on the phone with him. He leaned over to look on the floor beside the bed.

"Here, Butters." Kenny said unnecessarily loudly, picking up the tee-shirt he'd been wearing earlier from the floor. "Put this on…it's pretty clean, and at least it should fit."

Butters pulled Kenny's shirt over his head, and Kenny pointed his phone and took another picture after giving Butters time to prepare; this one was much better for what Kyle's dad probably wanted, a mostly-serious looking Butters wearing a black tee-shirt, blond hair a mass of cowlicks, the collar and piece of chain clearly visible around his neck.

"Here you go, Mr. B.," Kenny said into his phone. He sent the second picture, and then saved them both.

"This is great Kenny," Gerald said a moment later. "Tell Butters everything is going to be okay. I'll explain everything when we meet later. Can you two be here at the house around 8:00?"

Kenny looked at his alarm clock; it was 4:45. "Not a problem, Mr. Broflovski," he told him. "And thank you."

Kenny closed his phone. "He'd like us to be at Kyle's house at eight," he said, putting his phone back on his nightstand. "And he said to tell you that everything is going to be okay and your parents aren't going to get in any trouble if that's what you really want. That gives us almost three hours to sleep, or…whatever." Kenny felt wide awake now, elated that at least part of this nightmare was getting resolved, but not wanting his time with Butters to end. There was still the matter of where he would go, but first things first. They had almost three hours to kill. Kenny set his alarm clock in case they fell asleep, and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, Butters laying down next to him, their shoulders not quite touching.

Butters said timidly: "We can play…" He pointed at a water stain on the ceiling almost directly above them. "That kind of looks like…"

"A giraffe riding a Harley," Kenny finished, smiling. "I noticed that one a long time ago."

Butters laughed, and it was the first real laugh Kenny had heard from him since he'd found him a few hours ago. "Hey, it does kind of look like that!"

Kenny pointed to another stain on the ceiling over his dresser. "What about that one? I know what _I_ see every time I look at it; how about you?" Kenny rolled onto his side and scooted a bit closer, propping his head on his hand, not quite touching him, hoping Butters would get the idea and close the remaining distance between them. Kenny was beginning to wonder why he'd never noticed before what a sweet kid Butters really was…and then realized that he probably had, but just never admitted it to himself. All those stops on his walks home just to see if his bedroom light was on…

"Umm…" Butters studied the stain for a few seconds. "Gee, Kenny, I dunno. I kind of see a giant Hello Kitty…climbing the Statue of Liberty."

Kenny laughed. "Heh, I do see that."

"What do you think it looks like?"

Kenny pointed at the very top of the stain. "That part right there looks like Cartman…and below that, he's sitting on top of a giant sixty foot Cheesy Poof, and he's leaning down to take a bite out of it—"

Butters snorted and rolled against him, burying a peal of laughter against Kenny's chest. Kenny felt something like electricity go through him at the touch. He gently put his hand on Butters' shoulder, hoping it wouldn't frighten him off; instead it seemed like what Butters wanted, and he settled his head on Kenny's chest contentedly, Kenny rolling onto his back again where they were more comfortable. They lay that way for several minutes. Kenny could feel Butters' heartbeat against his shoulder.

"Um…Kenny?" Butters raised his head to look at him "You know I'm gay, right?"

"I think we've all known that since about the fourth grade dude."

Butters sighed, sounding somewhere between content and embarrassed. He put his head back on Kenny's chest, and Kenny rubbed his thumb gently over Butters' thin forearm. "You know I'm at least sort of, um, bisexual, right?"

"I'd…heard stories…" Butters said quietly.

"About how I'd do anything with two legs?" Kenny said, making sure he made it sound like a joke.

"Hah! Yeah." Butters seemed perfectly content to stay as he was; he curled his hand on Kenny's stomach, next to his own face.

"You're safe here with me. I'm pretty sure you know that by now."

Butters raised his head to look at him again. "Oh I do, Kenny. I, uh. Gee whiz…just thank you." He put his head back down, stifling a sudden yawn.

"Let's go to sleep." Kenny planted a gentle kiss on the top of Butters' head, making sure he felt it. "We'll have all day tomorrow." Kenny hoped that Butters would fall asleep with his head on his chest, and he got his wish.


	5. We Have A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it seems as though things are going a little _too_ well for Kenny and Butters, it's because they are. Dark satanic forces are at work here, orchestrating events for an eventual showdown with Kenny.

This time instead of Kenny's phone, it was his alarm clock that woke them. Butters lifted his head from Kenny's chest so he could sit up to turn off the alarm. It was 7:30.

"We'll have to hurry," Kenny said regretfully, giving Butters a long look. "I slept really good."

"Me too." Butters yawned and stretched, standing up. "Uh, Kenny?" he looked down at himself and the black tee shirt, cutoffs, and socks he was wearing. "Do you have some clothes I can borrow?"

"Yeah, sure." Kenny stood up and looked at the pile of clothes in front of his closet door. "All my pants are going to be about four sizes too big." He handed Butters a pair of crumpled up jeans. "Here. Try these." He started looking for his old boots.

Butters pulled the jeans on over the cutoffs he was wearing. They were a little big, but the shirt covered the waist and he rolled up the cuffs and they were good enough.

"You can wear one of my jackets, too." Kenny dropped a pair of work boots on the floor between them, then opened his closet door; there were at least half a dozen identical orange parkas hanging on the rack, their only difference being their size, going left to right from a small child's coat to the size he wore now. He took the second one from the right and handed it to Butters. "I bet that one will fit perfectly."

"You kept all your old jackets," Butters marveled as he pulled on the one Kenny had given him.

"Yeah, I know," Kenny laughed. "Sentimental I guess. Hey…that one fits you good."

"It hides this stupid collar too."

"Oh, yeah." Kenny suddenly brightened. "Hey, if you want, when we get done at Kyle's I can hacksaw that off for you…?"

Butters was fingering the collar. "Would you, Kenny? I'd sure like to get this thing off me."

Kenny smiled, thinking of how close they'll be sitting, and how long it will take, for him to cut that collar off. "Of course I will." Butters had the boots on now and was tying them, and Kenny asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. I'm a little nervous, but…yeah."

"You'll be fine." They walked down the short hall together. Kenny stopped to look in at his parents; they had barely moved since he'd last checked on them. "Dad?" Kenny said, not too loudly. He stepped in just far enough to scoop a set of keys off a dresser. "I'm going to borrow your truck, okay?"

There was no response from the huddled mass on the bed. Kenny looked at Butters and said, "You didn't hear them say no, did you?"

Butters grinned and followed Kenny outside. They climbed into the old truck, Butters kicking aside a layer of empty beer cans and fast food wrappers to get his feet settled. The truck started with a roar, and Kenny drove the familiar streets to Kyle's. As they rounded the final turn, Butters suddenly sat straight up in the passenger seat, agitated again. Kenny saw it a moment later: Stephen Stotch's SUV parked in Kyle's driveway. Kenny stopped the truck by the curb in front of Kyle's house, leaving the engine running.

"Kenny! He's _here_ ," Butters whispered, terrified. "He's gonna make me go back with him—"

"Butters!" Kenny grabbed his wrist. "No, he's won't. Listen. You and I are going to go in there together, and when you leave here, you're going with me, not with him, no matter what he says. That's a promise. Okay?"

"Kenny…" Butters stared at him frantically, his eyes like a deer's caught in headlights, looking like he wanted to leap from the truck and bolt. Kenny saw the front door of Kyle's house open and Stan and Kyle rushing outside. Before Kenny could warn Butters, Stan yanked open the passenger door.

" _Bah!_ " Butters screamed and threw himself against Kenny, who grabbed him. When Butters saw it was Stan and Kyle and not his dad, he collapsed against Kenny, melting into his arms.

"Oh Jesus Butters, I'm sorry!" Stan said, drawing back. "We came out to tell you…your dad isn't here, just his car is…I'm sorry." He hung his head; Kyle put his hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, that's okay Stan." Butters said shakily and eased himself away from Kenny and climbed out. Kenny shut off the truck and got out and quickly went around to stand next to him again.

"Oh, the identical jackets," Kyle said laughing. "That is too cute."

"He didn't have much with him when he got to my place last night," Kenny said, and Butters turned to look at him.

Stan and Kyle exchanged amused looks. "You need to come in and talk to my dad, Butters."

They went inside, through the living room into the kitchen. Stan and Kyle sat back down at the table in front of plates with half eaten pancakes on them. Sheila was standing at the stove, stirring batter. "Good morning, boys," she said. "Would you two like some breakfast? Gerald is just finishing up a few things for you."

"Yes ma'am," Kenny and Butters replied together, and Butters added, "Thank you."

Butters sat in an empty chair and patted the one next to it for Kenny. "Actually," Kenny said, "I'm going to borrow your bathroom for a minute, Kyle."

Kyle nodded. "It's still in the same place dude." They watched Kenny walk out of the room toward the downstairs bathroom.

"Butters, that must have been terrible," Sheila said, pouring batter onto a griddle. "It was so _cold_ last night, I don't know what your father was thinking. It must have been awful walking all the way to Kenny's house when it was so cold."

"Oh, no ma'am!" Butters said brightly. "It was so cold my feet were almost frozen. I couldn't walk at all. Kenny had to put me on his back and carry me all the way to his house." He said this as if he were proud of him.

Stan and Kyle exchanged glances. "Geez Butters," Stan said. "Kenny didn't say anything to us about that." There was admiration in his voice.

"Sounds like Kenny's a hero," Sheila proclaimed, flipping two pancakes over.

"Yes, ma'am. I hate to think how it would have been if he hadn't come along."

They all thought about that for a moment. Sheila put the two pancakes on a plate and set it in front of Butters. "I'll bring Kenny's plate when he gets back." Stan slid the syrup over to him, and Butters poured a generous amount and began eating hungrily.

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny closed the bathroom door, thought for a moment, and then locked it. His hands were shaking. He didn't need to use the bathroom, he just wanted a moment of alone time now that Butters was with people he trusted. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink. _Way to go, McCormick,_ he chided himself. He was trying to figure out how he had gone from thinking of Butters as that strange friend that liked to hang around with them…to thinking of him as someone he might possibly want to grow old with. How he'd fallen in love this hard, this fast, is something he couldn't comprehend, because he tried to avoid these kinds of entanglements; they led to a lot of pain when he inevitably died, and even if they don't remember it later, Kenny still feels like it leaves some kind of permanent scar somewhere, on the soul perhaps.

He pulled out his phone and brought up the two pictures he had taken earlier. He only looked at the shirtless one for a moment, thinking it'll be great whack off material for later; he wanted to see the second one: Butters looking directly at the camera, not quite smiling, with the metal collar above the neckline of Kenny's shirt. Even the cheap phone had picked up the pretty blue of his eyes, and Kenny stared at this picture, letting it calm him.

He stayed there a minute longer, then even though he hadn't used it, he flushed the toilet anyway, and even washed his hands in the sink and dried them on one of the guest towels. He'd been gone two minutes and he already missed Butters.

When he walked back into the kitchen, Butter's face lit up like a Christmas tree; Stan, Kyle, and Sheila were all looking at him like he'd grown a second head. He sat in the chair beside Butters nervously, wondering why they were looking at him that way.

"You didn't tell us you'd carried him all the way to your house," Kyle said. "That's…that was pretty righteous, dude."

Kenny just grunted. Sheila put a plate of pancakes in front of him, and he reached for the syrup. "Thanks," he finally mumbled.

"Would you like anything else, Kenny?" Sheila asked. "Some coffee? How about you, Butters?"

"I would _love_ some coffee," Kenny said sincerely, looking up again. Butters nodded that he wanted some too. Kenny was relieved that he was no longer the center of attention. He picked up the syrup from in front of Butters, poured, and started eating. Sheila set two large mugs of coffee in front of them; bless her for not serving coffee in little cups.

"Gerald should be ready for you any minute," Sheila said, sitting down at the table to join them. "I gather there's been some exciting developments in this case."

"Case?" Butters asked, looking up nervously. Kenny pressed his leg against him under the table.

"Yeah, Butters," Kyle said. "We're supposed to wait until my dad explains all this, but you're going to love what he's managed to do for you. Well, him and a detective friend of his."

"Oh geez," Butters exclaimed, sitting up straight. "I sure didn't mean to cause a big fuss—"

"It's fine, Butters," Kyle told him. "And my dad said to tell you, this isn't costing you any money. That picture Kenny sent really got to him."

"Aw, gee, thanks Kyle. I'll be sure to thank him too!" He had finished eating, and Kenny was down to his last couple of bites. The door to Gerald's office opened, and he stepped out of it.

"Boys, I'm ready for you now. Bring your coffee if you like."

Everyone in the room including Sheila filed into Gerald's office. Kenny and Butters took the chairs in front of his desk, everyone else standing back to observe.

"Butters," Gerald began in his best lawyer's voice. "Let me first say that this has been an interesting night. When Kyle told me what happened, I contacted a detective on the police force who owed me a favor. He went to your house to confront your parents, but your house was unlocked and empty. He went inside and found this—" Gerald held up a single sheet of paper—"sitting on top of your dining room table. It's a note your dad left you." He passed the note across his desk to Butters, who held it up to read, Kenny reading over his shoulder.

_Butters – Mommy and I are returning to our native Hawaii. Things are no good here for us anymore. Join us when you can – Dad_

_P.S. You're not grounded anymore._

Butters laughed nervously. "Join us when you can?"

"You're not going to, are you?" Kenny asked.

Butters looked surprised. "Oh _hell_ no!" Then he looked around the room in horror. "Heck! I mean, heck no!"

They all laughed, even Sheila. Kenny elbowed him and grinned.

"Anyway," Gerald cut in, speaking directly to Butters again "Once he found that note, he caught up to them at Denver International. From there, we employed a tactic that basically amounts to not quite legal blackmail: He explained to your parents that Stephen was facing a minimum of two years in prison for the criminal portion of what he had done to you, and would face the civil portion, which is where his victim is awarded money and valuables as compensation later…and that the former might be able to be avoided if they were willing to cooperate with the latter now. Once they'd been shown that picture Kenny sent me, they broke down and turned everything over to you: The house, the car, and a small bank account. They were abandoning these anyway, so the loss to them is minimal. They seem to think they're going to be able to get by on just something called a 'Mahalo rewards card'—"

"Wait," Kenny said. "You're saying that SUV in the driveway, plus their house, belongs to _Butters_ now?"

"I own a house?" Butters asked incredulously.

Stan and Kyle were both grinning…and Kenny lowered his head to hide the biggest smile he ever felt split his face as it began to sink in that, yes, Butters now owned a house, a nice SUV…and a bank account. This had worked out far better for him than Kenny had ever hoped for; he had envisioned Butters crashing at his place, Kenny arguing with his dad about the extra mouth to feed. He only hoped now there was still room for him somewhere with these developments.

"That's correct," Gerald replied. "As a final coup de grace, my friend made your father drive his car here and take a cab back to the airport. In fact you just missed him by about twenty minutes."

"No big loss," Butters muttered, loud enough only for Kenny to hear.

"There's some papers for you to sign," Gerald said, removing a few documents from the folder in front of him and spreading them out on the desk. "This one transfers ownership of the house, this one the car, this one the bank account—" Gerald indicated which document was which. "And this one says that by accepting this property in settlement, you agree never to press criminal charges against them."

Butters reached for that one first, taking the pen Gerald held out for him to use. Kenny leaned over to whisper in his ear: "Remember, Butters…sign it with your real first name, Leopold."

Butters pulled away from him laughing. "I've signed documents before…Kenneth!"

That got another round of laughter from everyone. Butters quickly scanned through each document, Kenny watching everything he did over his shoulder, before affixing his signature to the bottom of each one: _Leopold B. Stotch_. Kenny thought he had a nice flourish to his signature.

Gerald took the signed paperwork back and handed Butters a set of keys. "This is for the house and car," he told him. He handed some other paperwork to Butters. "And this pertains to the bank account." Butters took that one without looking at it, and held it in his lap.

"I guess that's it then?" he asked. "I can just…get in my new car and drive to my house?" Kenny grinned at that.

"That's about right, Butters." Gerald stood up and extended his hand. Butters jumped up to shake it, putting the papers in his other hand. Kenny stood and shook his hand a moment later.

"Mr. Broflovski, thank you." Butters said sincerely. "Gee, everybody's just been so nice to me. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Butters," Gerald told him, and everyone began turning to go back out into the house.

"Well gee Kenny, I guess I'll drive you home now," Butters said as they were saying good bye to everyone.

"Yeah," Kenny replied. "But you have to stick around for a while. We have a date, remember?"

Butters seemed surprised by this. "We do, Kenny?"

"Sure we do…remember? We have a date with a hacksaw."

0-0-0-0-0

Stan and Kyle watched them climb into Butter's new SUV; they'd taken Kenny's dad's keys and agreed to drive the pickup truck back shortly and then walk home so Kenny and Butters could leave together. They turned to each other and laughed when Butters used the turn signal just to back out into the street. Kenny caught both their eyes and turned to Butters to point at them, and from the expression on both their faces through the windshield, they knew that Kenny had just said something like _they're laughing at your driving, dude._

"He's going to get a ticket for driving with undue caution or something," Kyle said, watching them slowly drive off.

"Butters' driving is hardly the most interesting thing going on here. Are we watching South Park's next gay couple in the beginning stages of hooking up?"

Stan had obviously meant that question as a joke, but Kyle's furrowed brows meant he was seriously considering it. "If you had asked me that one minute before Kenny sent us that text last night, I would have said 'not in a million years'. But after that drama last night, and then seeing them together today? Butters' face when Kenny came back from the bathroom? Yeah…in a weird sort of way, those two make completely perfect sense."

"I know." They started walking back toward Kyle's house to get jackets before driving the pickup to Kenny's house; they would need them for the walk back. "I hope they're like us, you know? Like…able to talk about everything together."

"Do you think maybe we should check on them later?" Kyle asked, smirking. "After all, I don't think Kenny's going to rip Butters' clothes off the moment they get to his house."

"And give them all the wisdom and experience of our five days together as a couple?"

"I was thinking more like 35 years' worth of combined wisdom and experience…but that, too." Kyle grinned. "Two new gay couples in less than a week. Cartman is going to have kittens."

Stan laughed. "I like your idea. Let's call them up in a couple hours, maybe see if they want us to bring over some Bennigan's takeout. Maybe a couple of Chipotle Burgers is just what they need to get things started. You know, I think Kenny only orders those because they're Butters' favorite."

"Yeah, we could do that." Kyle seemed like he was giving the idea serious thought. "Or you could just suck my dick." Kyle watched Stan's eyes widen slightly and his pupils fatten. "And I'm not speaking figuratively."

"Oh shit dude." Stan closed his eyes and leaned in to say, "I wish your parents weren't home, because we'll just have to go up to your room again…because if we had your house to ourselves, I'd like to do what you just said…on your dad's desk."


	6. Don't Move

"You're gonna have to hold real still." Kenny fingered the chain around Butters' neck and eyed the hacksaw in his other hand doubtfully. They were back in Kenny's bed, this time sitting up and facing each other. "I don't have a whole lot of room to work here, and this saw is sharp. I don't want to cut you."

"I'll hold still, Kenny," Butters said. "I trust you."

Kenny pulled on the chain along the side of his neck, tenting it there. "Is that too tight?" When Butters barely shook his head and whispered "no", Kenny set the hacksaw blade carefully against the chain and slowly began sawing. " _Don't_ move now." As he drew the blade back and forth, it slowly began cutting a notch into the chain. This would work, it would just be time consuming. Kenny leaned forward until his chin was almost touching Butters' forehead, watching the saw blade as it slowly made a deeper cut into the shiny metal. The blond hairs on Butters' neck were starting to get long and unruly; he'll be due for a haircut soon. When he was a little more than half way through, Kenny stopped and carefully moved the saw away, holding it near the mattress. "Gonna rest for a minute," he said.

art by rensrenegade

"Oh Geez, Kenny, thank you again." Butters still wasn't moving a muscle. "You've been really good to me, and I've put you through a lot. I hope you're not too sore after all this."

"Nah, I'm fine Butters. My arm's getting a little tired; I'm just gonna rest it for a minute."

A moment of companionable silence passed. Butters broke it with: "You know, Kenny, it's a good thing it was me you found and not Tweek. He'd probably twitch or something and you'd saw his head off—"

Kenny laughed so hard he almost dropped the hacksaw. Butters looked up and they grinned at each other, and their eyes met. The sparks between them were getting more obvious to each other by the minute, and it was a long few seconds before they both looked away.

"Butters," Kenny said. "If I'd found Tweek, I would have given him my coat and called the cops and waited until they showed up."

"Really, Kenny?" Butters looked down again, blinking. Kenny didn't know it, but that was one of the nicest things anyone had said to him in a long time.

Kenny fingered the chain again. "Hold still one more time. Let's get this thing off you." Kenny made sure Butters was settled, then set the saw blade back into the groove he'd already made. Two minutes later he had cut through the chain, and Kenny made sure to not let the saw touch Butters' neck as the chain fell away. "There you go…and not a scratch on you."

Butters reached up to rub his neck. "Gee, thanks Kenny! Um…" he stood up and went around to kneel behind Kenny. It seemed like he'd been planning this. His fingers settled onto Kenny's shoulders. "I figure this is the least I could do, after all you've done for me," he said as his fingers started pressing on sore muscles in a very welcome massage.

"Mhmm," Kenny moaned, somewhat loudly. Butters' hands stopped moving, but he didn't take them away.

"Oh, did that hurt, Kenny? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, I uh. Want you to press harder."

"Oh, okay then." Butters laughed. His hands resumed their movements, surprisingly skilled, gentle as they worked around Kenny's neck, more forceful around his shoulders and biceps. Kenny leaned forward limp, loving the attention.

Butters cleared his throat. "Well," he began tentatively. "I guess I should be going soon. Back to that big ol' empty house with nobody to talk to." Butters' hands made a slow sweeping motion down Kenny's back and up again. "But that's okay, I'll just sing to myself and fix my room up the way I always wanted to…"

Kenny grinned, knowing exactly what he was doing by the tone of his voice. "Butters, are you inviting me over for lunch?"

"Why, gee whiz, no Kenny!" Butters sounded surprised. He finished, much more softly: "I was inviting you for a sleepover…if you want." His hands had stopped on Kenny's shoulders, and he was holding his breath.

"Yes, please." Kenny said quietly. Butters' hands slowly resumed their massage for a moment, then he stopped and crawled forward until they were sitting beside each other.

"Kenny? I've never, um. Done this? Before…I mean I've just kissed a girl a few times, but that didn't really mean anything. And never anything…else."

Kenny nodded and took one of Butters' hands in both of his. "That's okay. I kind of thought so." He couldn't take his eyes off of Butters' lips. Until this moment, he had never noticed how utterly kissable they were. He'd never been this close to them before. Butters' eyes were burning into him, and he finally tore his gaze away from his mouth to meet them.

Kenny's eyes narrowed and he moaned. "Oh." He raised his hand slowly to Butters' face. "It's okay," he said, as if Butters had flinched. He touched his index finger to the scar on the side of Butters' nose, next to his left eye. It had matured into a thin white vertical line, wider at the top and bottom where two of the points of the ninja star had gone in the deepest.

"I did that to you," he said sadly. He leaned forward; Butters closed his eyes a moment before Kenny gently pressed his lips to the scar and softly kissed it. "I'm so sorry." 

Butters opened his eyes again. "Oh, Kenny! That was a long time ago! I—" Butters reached up to stroke Kenny's cheek. "I forgave you years ago."

"Thank you." Kenny slowly wrapped his arms around Butters and drew him into a hug, not kissing him, just holding him close. "I like you, Butters," Kenny whispered. "I like you a _lot_."

"I like you too, Kenny! A whole lot!" They held each other awhile longer, and when they finally drew apart, they automatically reached for each other's' hands. Butters smiled and said: "Want to come over to my house?"

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny gathered up a few things in a duffle bag and they went back outside and climbed back into Butters' SUV. They drove the short distance to Butters' house, Butters prattling on about how he wants to rearrange the furniture. When they arrived, he parked at the curb. "Nine tenths of a mile," Butters said.

"Hmm?"

"Oh. Nine tenths of a mile from your house to my house." He pointed at the odometer. "That's how far you carried me…not quite a mile"

Kenny smiled. "Yeah, but we're at the sidewalk. I started from your backyard." Butters smiled back and he started to get out. Kenny took hold of his arm to hold him back. "Hey, you haven't even looked at those papers Kyle's dad gave you…about the bank account? Aren't you curious?"

"Oh well yeah, I guess I kinda am." He looked down at the paperwork laying on the center console between them. "They said it was a small account…why don't you look for me?"

"If you want me to." Kenny picked them up and they climbed out. He unfolded the papers, scanned through them as he walked, then gave a low whistle. "Uh, Butters," he said as he caught up to him in front of the SUV. "This _small account_ …has just over forty thousand dollars in it." He showed Butters the 'balance' line.

"Holy shit!" Butters said looking at the paper, and Kenny burst out laughing, hard. " _What_?" he asked, smiling.

"Butters." Kenny was still laughing. "Those lips of yours were not designed to say real swear words."

"Hah! If you think I just say 'oh hamburgers' all the time, you have another thing coming!" They went into the house, Butters using his key to open the door. Gerald's friend must have locked up before he left here.

"Looks like they didn't take much with them," Kenny said when they walked into the living room. It had been years since Kenny had seen the inside of this house. He was pretty sure all the furniture was arranged the exact same way it was the last time he was here. The house appeared spotlessly clean. "You know," he went on as they stepped further into the house. "There's enough in that account that, if you're careful, you might be able to stretch that out for a couple years before you have to worry about money again."

Butters stepped in front of Kenny and stopped. Kenny had to stop too, or he'd walk into him. He watched Butters as he looked nervously at his shoes, rubbing his fists together.

"So that means that…if _we're_ careful, it might stretch out for a year?"

It took Kenny a second to realize what he was asking. "Oh Butters, no, I don't want you to support me—"

"And I don't want to be in this house alone all the time! I'd go crazy if I had to do that. Yeah, I could get a dog or something to keep me company…but I want somebody to talk to me, make me laugh, and tell me when we're running low on milk. Even when it was me and my folks here and they were grounding me and whatnot, it was at least real company, you know?" He reached for one of Kenny's hands. "I was thinking on the drive over here: What if after school from now on, you go to your house, put in an appearance there for an hour or two, make sure Karen is okay and everything…and then come here the rest of the time?" He was looking at Kenny with a heartbreakingly hopeful expression. "And if something ever happened and Karen needed a safe place to stay…she could always come and stay here."

Kenny squeezed his hand gently. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes! I've never been more serious about anything. I…I think…I think I love you Kenny." He sniffed; his lips were trembling and those unbelievably blue eyes of his were getting shiny.

"Oh, hey-!" Kenny hugged him. "Okay. Okay…yeah, we can try that." He kissed Butters neck. "You know…we've been friends for a long time; and just about the time I was carrying you into my bedroom last night, I think I realized…I'd like something more, too" He swallowed, hard. "Last night…after you were warm again? That was one of the best times I've ever had." He moved back so he could look at Butters' face; it had an almost unreadable expression, somewhere between relief and desperate longing. And those lips were right there…Kenny slowly leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against them, sucking on the bottom one for a moment before moving away again to take another look. Butters face was now completely readable: Pure bliss.

"Thank you, Kenny," he whispered.

"For kissing you?" He smiled.

Kenny's phone buzzed in his pocket with an incoming text. They both ignored it.

"Well, yeah," Butters said. "And for saving me last night, and for being so nice to me, and…just for everything."

Kenny leaned in to kiss him again; this one went on a little longer. When they broke apart, Kenny said simply: "I love you too, Butters." Butters closed his eyes and pressed his face against Kenny's chest. "And you know what else?" Kenny went on. "We have the rest of today, all night, and all day tomorrow. I'm not going to rush this. I want you to remember tonight for the rest of your life. Okay?"

Butters looked up at him and nodded; Kenny was a good four inches taller. "Okay, Kenny. Just…don't let go of me yet."

They stood in Butters—in _their_ —living room, holding each other for a long time. When it eventually started getting awkward, they drew apart grinning at each other. "Maybe I should make some lunch," Butters said.

"I'll help. Let me see who texted me." It was Kyle: _Busy? Or can you call us?_ "Oh, it's them." He showed Butters the message. "Want to see what they want?" 


	7. Two Conversations

Butters nodded and Kenny entered Kyle's number. "Hey Kenny."

"Hey Kyle…what's up?"

"Where are you guys?"

"We just got to Butters' house a few minutes ago." Butters was standing next to him making faces, and Kenny had to stifle a laugh. "I was gonna help him move some furniture around or whatever he wants to do to make this place more his."

"Cool. Me and Stan were wondering, if you guys weren't busy, we could bring you two some lunch? You know, like kind of a housewarming gift."

Kenny said to Butters, "Hey, they want to bring lunch over…would you like that?" Butters nodded happily; Kenny whispered, "You're sure, right?" He nodded again, and Kenny said into his phone, "Sure…sounds great guys."

"We're just pulling up to Bennigans, so we'll be there in like half an hour. You two want your usual?"

"Butters, you want a Chipotle burger?" Butters was standing with his head cocked at an angle, tongue sticking out, one hand wrapped around his throat, the other over his head imitating a hangman's noose.

"Yes, Kenny," he croaked as if he were choking, and Kenny laughed and turned away because Butters' antics were about to send him into hysterics. "Yeah Kyle, two of those. And thanks!" Kenny hung up, and then turned around to face Butters, who was now standing there looking perfectly normal.

"Butters, what in the blue ball _fuck_ was all that about?" He was still fighting a laughter breakdown.

Butters blinked; he could work those eyes of his to look angelic when he wanted to. "What in the blue ball fuck was all what about, Kenny?"

"Uh huh. Those faces, and you looking like you're hanging yourself."

Butters smiled. "I was trying to get you to laugh, so Kyle would think we were doing something else."

"That's what I thought. You'll have to try harder next time."

Butters grabbed his hand. "No…because next time they call, I might really be doing something else." This time he took the initiative, leaning forward to give Kenny a quick peck on the lips. They both looked dazed when he moved away again.

Butters pulled on Kenny's hand. "May I show you around sir?"

Kenny grinned at him. "Sure." Butters led him to the kitchen, then showed him the garage, never letting go of his hand. "This remind me," Kenny said. "Those wire cutters I used last night came from in here, and they're still outside; I'll bring them in later." They went back through the house, and Butters led him up the stairs to show him his room. Kenny was glad their friends were coming over; he wanted to grab Butters, kiss him, and lay down on the bed with him and start fooling around...but he also knew that wouldn't be right. What was coming later seemed too important to rush. Butters had said he could stay as long as he wanted; they had plenty of time. His room was very sparsely furnished, just a single bed (which was perfectly made), a nightstand with a lamp, and a dresser. There were no pictures or posters on the walls.

"See, I want to fix my room up nice," Butters said. "I want glow in the dark stars, and some posters, maybe a black light—"

_Black light_ , Kenny thought. Perfect house warming gift.

"—and some sheets with the Denver Broncos or something on them."

"What about your parents' room, Butters? It's probably a bigger room…wouldn't that be nicer?"

"Hey, you know...I didn't think about that! This is _my_ house now, isn't it? I can do anything I want here!"

"Darn right. Let's go take a look."

Butters led him back down the hall to the master bedroom. There was a king size bed, which _wasn't_ made; a comforter was just thrown carelessly across the top of it, the pillows making untidy lumps near the headboard. This room had its own bathroom, plus a walk in closet. They stood holding hands in the middle of it, looking around.

"Gee whiz," Butters said. "They always made me make _my_ bed before I can go anywhere!"

Kenny laughed. "I think they left in kind of a hurry, Butters."

Butters was still staring at the bed. Then he looked at Kenny for a moment, squeezed his hand, and looked at the bed again.

"Uh huh…we'll break that in later, Butters." He smiled and squeezed Butter's hand. "Tonight's going to be special."

"I know it will be, Ken," Butters said softly, squeezing his hand back. "It's going to be real special…and you were right: This is my room now."

They heard a car pull into the driveway. "It sounds like they're here. Let's go see if they need help."

They went back down the stairs, no longer holding hands, and went out the front door. Stan was just getting out of his car, Kyle standing on the passenger side holding four Bennigan's to-go boxes. "Hey fellas," Butters called cheerfully as they walked up to them.

"Um, Stan?" Kenny said, looking down. "You're getting a flat tire, dude." He was staring at the rear left tire, which was looking soft, obviously low on air.

"Aw, shit. I am." Stan looked frustrated.

Kenny looked at them; they were both wearing nice clothes, clean jeans and shirts, an old football jersey on Stan. "Looks like you guys were going somewhere later," he said. "If you want, I'll change that for you after lunch, so you don't mess your clothes up."

"Ah, thanks Kenny. We were gonna go to the mall later; that'd be great."

"Well, that's all set, then!" Butters said, taking two of the dinner boxes from Kyle. "Let's go eat!"

Butters and Kyle headed toward the front door. Stan hung back with Kenny for a moment, and when they were out of earshot, Stan whispered, "Hey, we're not cock blocking you or anything, are we?"

Kenny laughed. "Ha, no. A couple hours from now you might have been. But no, you're fine."

"You two will make a good couple," Stan said as they walked inside. They sat around Butters' dinner table to eat; Butters made a show of setting the table, putting out plates, napkins, and silverware, talking about how he wanted to fix up the house while trying to be a perfect host. It was a nice meal; Kenny admired how easily Stan and Kyle interacted together, touching each others' arms when they were laughing about something. Butters would sometimes reach for his hand under the table and link their fingers together between bites of his burger.

When they were finished eating, they sat talking for a few minutes, and then Kenny said, "Maybe we should go get that tire changed."

Outside, Stan opened his trunk and took out his jack while Kenny pulled the spare out and set it next to the flat tire. He started to set up the jack and then stopped. "Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah, Kenny?"

"Um…let me ask you something, okay? It's kind of personal…but what was your first time with Kyle like? I mean, I don't need to hear about everything you two did or anything, but…that was his first time, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…" Stan looked pensive. "You thinking about Butters?"

"You know it. It's gonna be his first time too…I don't want to mess it up."

"You care about him, right? I mean, you're not just—"

"Oh _fuck_ yes, I care about him. Starting from the moment I saw him inside that dog house. It…tore my heart out to see him in there like that." His hands were shaking suddenly, and he fumbled his cigarettes out of his pocket and finally got one lit, almost dropping his lighter. Stan was looking at him sympathetically. "All I could think of was getting him out of there and someplace warm." His hands were still trembling as he took a deep drag from the cigarette. "I wanted to go in his house and beat the shit out of his dad until he gave me the key to that collar…but he wouldn't let me. I haven't been more than ten feet away from him since about midnight last night. You and I have been out here for two minutes and I miss being with him already. He's so…" Kenny paused, unsure of how to finish that thought and amazed that he'd said so much already. "I don't even like to cuss around him anymore. He told me I could live here!—and even though this is happening so fast and it seems crazy, I _want_ to stay…and help him move furniture, or whatever he wants me to do. Jesus, someone shut me up." He took another drag from his cigarette and looked down.

"Aww…you got it bad, don't you?" Stan was smiling now. Kenny just nodded. "Well…you guys are going to be fine. I mean…I guess to answer your question, our first time…we were just getting started, you know, and of course we were nervous. We ended up laughing. I said something, I don't really remember what, but then the next thing we knew, Kyle was cracking up and then I was cracking up, and our first real hug wasn't us kissing or trying to cuddle. It was us hiding our faces in each other's necks trying not to laugh so hard we'd wake up the entire neighborhood."

"Aww…that's really sweet." Kenny said grinning and looking up at Stan.

"But then, one of us kissed the other, and we stopped laughing at once. And then…everything we did was just perfect. I don't know what you guys will do…but if you care about each other, it'll be perfect too. You should see how he looks at you when he knows you're not looking. Like you can walk on water or something."

Kenny nodded. He started to jack the car up. "Thanks, Stan. Um…he said something pretty cute earlier." He told Stan what Butters had said about Tweek while he was cutting the collar off his neck. Stan laughed at that, and Kenny continued, "but then…when I told him that if I had found Tweek, I would have just given him my coat and waited for the cops, I swear I saw a tear in his eye. It was like he was amazed that no one else would have put him on their back and carried him a mile to get warmed up." He knelt down and started loosening the lug nuts. "And I'm like, how could anyone _not_ do that for him?"

"Yeah." Stan was looking at him with what might have been admiration. "You care about him. You guys are going to be fine. In fact, this is probably going to be the best night of your life…at least until tomorrow night." Kenny smiled, and Stan watched him work for a minute. Soon, he had the lug nuts off and in a neat pile next to him. "Say, um…this may be the only advice I have. It's something I read on the internet…so you know it must be true, right?" Kenny grinned. "But it really makes sense…it said that when you look at someone naked for the first time, you should look them in the eyes first. It makes them feel more at ease, or something."

Kenny nodded. "Thanks, Stan. I'll remember that." He pulled the flat tire off, put the spare on and replaced the lug nuts, tightening each one carefully. A few minutes later he was done, the flat tire and the jack stowed away in the trunk. "Be sure to get that tire fixed right away. You don't want to ride around without a spare."

"I will." They started walking toward Butters' house. "Hey Kenny, can I give you like ten bucks for changing my tire? You didn't have to do that."

"Ah, nah Stan, you don't—" Then he thought of something. "Hang on, actually." He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out some crumpled bills. He had eighteen dollars. "You guys are going to the mall later, right? You know that poster shop near the food court? Could you take that ten and this—" He handed Stan the money from his pocket. "And get me a black light? He said earlier he wanted one, and I thought I'd get him one as a house warming gift."

"Sure Kenny," Stan put Kenny's money in his wallet. "Did he want anything else?"

"Yeah, he said he wanted posters and glow in the dark stars. If you have any money left over…I don't know if they have velvet black light Hello Kitty posters there, but if you see anything you think he'd like…"

"Kyle and I will both get him something too." They were at the front door. Stan grinned. "Ah…do you want us to drop it off this evening on our way home?"

Kenny laughed and rolled his eyes. "Um… _No_. Tomorrow, or just the next time I see you will be good." They grinned at each other and walked into the house.

0-0-0-0-0

Butters looked out the window, watching Kenny work on Stan's car. Kyle had helped clear the table and was coming back from the kitchen. They stood together, watching the two work outside.

"Hey, Kyle?" Butters said. He seemed nervous, trying not to rub his fists together. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Butters."

"Ah…the first time you and Stan were…together? What was that like? I mean, not the sex stuff, but…were you scared?"

"You bet I was," Kyle replied immediately. " But I also knew everything was going to be all right. I mean, it was me and _Stan_ , you know? We kind of handled it the way we handle just about everything: We laughed about it. We were laying there together, and neither of us had the slightest idea what we were doing. I asked him if he had any thoughts, and he told me that he had left his copy of _How to Have Sex With Kyle Broflovski For Dummies_ at home—" Butters giggled hard at that, putting a hand to his mouth. "Yeah, see, that was _my_ reaction too. We both ended up laughing so hard it was a miracle we didn't wake my parents up. And then he kissed me, and I'll never forget that kiss. We stopped laughing right after it…and then we just did what felt good to us. And it was the most amazing thing I've ever done." He smiled. "At least up until then. And if the two of you care about each other half as much as it looks like you do…you guys are going to be great."

"Ah, that's so…I really like him a lot, Kyle!"

"I know. I'll tell you something, Butters. I _know_ he cares about you, too. The first time we talked on the phone last night, when you were asleep? He said that _he_ wasn't going to let you go back to your folks to be hurt any more. It wasn't until after he said that that he said you didn't want to go either. I think he would step in front of a bus to save you, dude."

Outside, Stan was laughing at something that Kenny had said. They had both noticed how long they'd been out there; Kenny could have had the tire changed five minutes ago, and he still wasn't finished. "You want to bet there's two conversations going on about this?"

"Hah…you think?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." Kyle put his hand on Butters' shoulder. "You guys are going to be great together. I'm really happy for you, Butters."

Butters looked shyly at his feet. "Aw, thanks, Kyle."


	8. The Most Beautiful Thing I've Ever Seen

Five minutes later, they stood at their front door watching their friends drive off. Once they were back inside, Kenny took Butters' hand, and they walked together up the stairs. Both of their hearts were racing. When they were four steps from the top, Butters pulled away and ran to the top of the steps and turned toward his former bedroom, Kenny looking after him surprised.

"I'm going to run down to my old room for a second Kenny." He looked down at the floor. "I want to put on some fresh undies."

Kenny nodded. "Okay, Butters." He grinned. "Take your time."

He watched Butters walk down the hall and disappear into his room, shaking his head. He figured it probably wouldn't hurt to freshen up a bit too, so he went into the master bedroom and dug fresh boxers and a clean wife beater out of his duffle bag and carried them into the bathroom. As he changed, he looked around the counter, spotting a jar of Vaseline and a bottle of cocoa butter lotion. He chose the lotion, setting it near the end of the counter and setting one of the guest towels next to it. He spotted a tube of toothpaste and gave his teeth a quick finger brushing. Then, gathering up the lotion and towel and pausing for a quick appearance check in the mirror, he went back into the bedroom, leaving the light on behind him. In case Butters didn't want the room lights on, it wouldn't be completely dark. He saw Butters just coming out of his room and quickly hid the things he was carrying under the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Butters came into the room wearing a faded South Park Cows tee shirt and a pair of boxer shorts with little red hearts all over them. He smiled shyly as he came over to stand in front of Kenny. "I figure you've already seen this much of me…"

Kenny put his hands on his hips and pulled him closer. "And we don't have to do anything you don't think you're ready for." He looked up at him, remembering Stan's words: _Look him in the eye._

"I know, Kenny. I—I really want to, though. I mean…do everything."

"Then c'mere." Kenny laid down on his back, patting the mattress next to him. Butters eagerly climbed into bed next to him, wrapping an arm around him and laying his head on Kenny's chest. "Butters…you're only the second guy I've ever been with. I had a fuck buddy in eleventh grade for awhile…so if I act like I have a clue what I'm doing, it's because of that." He kissed Butter's cheek. "You're _way_ more than just that to me…you know that, right?"

Butters nodded. "I know." They lay quietly for a moment. "When I was nine? My dad made me go to…well, a 'pray the gay away' camp. They said I had to go because I was confused. But nobody would come right out and tell me what they thought I was confused about, and that just made me more confused!" His voice had begun rising; he settled his head back down on Kenny's chest and exhaled. "There was another boy there, Bradley. He was my roommate, and my—" Butters pronounced the word carefully; it had been years since he had thought about this. "Accountabilibuddy. We were supposed to be…accountable for each other. He got us both in trouble because the counselors found a men's underwear ad in his things. And all they kept telling us was that _this_ is what was confusing us! I was confused…because I couldn't figure out what was wrong with wearing underwear."

Butters looked up at Kenny to see if he was paying attention. He was; in fact, he was staring in amazement. Butters put his head back on Kenny's chest and made a fist over the front of his shirt. "Anyway. A couple kids committed suicide while I was there. It was a horrible place…and Bradley said something to me, he said he like-liked me. And I was so dumb and naïve that I didn't even know he was telling me he had a crush on me, and I think I said something back to him that really hurt his feelings, because he ran away. And…" The hand on Kenny's shirt was fingering the cotton, gripping it. "I think if, earlier, when I told you that I thought I loved you? If you had said, um, that you wanted to just be friends or something…I don't know what I would have done." He stopped talking and sighed contentedly.

Kenny jumped into the silence. "But I didn't say that, did I?" He kissed the top of Butters' head, nuzzling into his blond hair. "I think we both hit the jackpot today, Butters. And about your friend…you and I both know that you would never hurt anyone on purpose."

Butters sighed, his hand still twisting in Kenny's shirt. "I know."

"What happened to your friend…Bradley?"

"Oh! That was the best part!" Butters sat up, reaching for Kenny's hand. "We all went out looking for him. And we found him, and he was getting ready to jump off of a bridge. Well, I'd had just about enough. I turned around and started yelling at the grown ups, and I told them that they were more confused than I was! And I yelled at them about some other stuff, I don't really remember, but when I was done, Bradley came down off the bridge."

Kenny sat up next to Butters and took Butters' other hand and kissed it. "I love you, Butters."

"Kenny…" Butters looked down for a moment, then moved away and stood up. "I love you too." He fingered the hem of his shirt. "And I want to…do this for you." He took his shirt off and faced Kenny wearing only his boxers. _Look him in the eye._ Even though he'd seen this last night, Kenny was only now really noticing just how sexy Butters was.

Butters was fingering the waist of the shorts, looking down bashfully. "Here, Butters. Maybe this will make it easier?" Kenny turned around on the bed so he was facing away. "You tell me when you're ready, okay?"

"Okay…" Kenny heard Butters moving behind him for a moment, a whisper of cloth, then silence. "All right…"

Kenny turned around, again reminding himself about Stan's advice. He met Butters' gaze, but he felt his eyes wanting to wander. _The carpet matches the drapes_ , Kenny thought idly. "Oh God, Butters…you're beautiful."

"Aww…" Butters was trembling. "Thank you."

"No." Kenny reached for his hands. "That's doesn't even begin to cover it. Butters…you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Kenny stared into his eyes. Now, there was nowhere else he wanted to look.

Butters stepped forward until he was standing between Kenny's thighs. Kenny wrapped his arms around him and laid back against the headboard, pulling him down on top of him. He felt Butter's hand pulling at the waistband of his shorts, making little sounds like complaints with his throat.

"What?" Kenny smiled. "Do you want me to get naked too?" Butters just nodded, clinging to him with one arm, his other hand still working at Kenny's shorts. "Would _you_ like to get me naked?"

"Uh huh." Butters reached over to lift the hem of Kenny's wife beater; he raised his arms to help him get it off. He reached for Kenny's shorts; Kenny raised his hips off the bed for him as he slid them down.

"Oh, wow, Kenny…" Kenny grinned at him. "You're…you're beautiful, too."

Butters crawled back on top of him again, and kissed him. Kenny kissed back, his tongue poking gently, seeking entrance. He slipped his tongue inside Butters' mouth, felt his tongue against his, and began licking Butters' teeth.

Butters pulled back a moment later, staring at him. Kenny wondered if he had gone too fast, but Butters just whispered, "Oh, God," before bringing his mouth back to Kenny's, his tongue darting out against Kenny's lips this time.

When they finally stopped, they were both breathless, holding each other close. Butters was still trembling, and his cock was twitching in time with his heartbeat. "Look at you," Kenny said wonderingly. "You're not gonna last thirty seconds once we really get started."

Butters kissed his neck. "What should we…"

"Here." Kenny reached under the bed and brought up the lotion and towel. Butters looked from Kenny to the bottle in his hand.

"Kenny, there's not enough lotion in that whole bottle for—"

"Don't worry about that." He squirted a large amount of lotion into the palm of one of his own hands. Butters couldn't take his eyes off it. He still looked doubtful. Kenny saw that look and smiled reassuringly. "This isn't going to hurt _you_ at all," Kenny whispered…and reached out to wrap his hand around Butters' cock. His eyes widened.

"Kenny-!"

"You're not really quite ready to do this the other way yet," Kenny said quietly. "So…c'mon." He lay down on his back, pulling Butters on top of him; He bent his knees, putting his feet up near Butters' armpits, guiding him forward and into position with a hand on his back. "Just go in _slow_ …"

Butters did; it felt very wet back there as he went. Kenny had used a _lot_ of lotion. "We're gonna…make a mess on these sheets," Kenny gasped when Butters was about half way in.

"That's okay," Butters whispered into his ear, brushing kisses against it. "There's a washing machine in the garage." He put his elbows on either side of Kenny's head, framing it, and put his face against Kenny's neck. He was almost there. "I'll show you how to use it tomorrow…"

Kenny snorted, and then they lay still, Butters fully inside him now. He was gasping on top of him. "Try to hold back," Kenny whispered, wanting this to last.

"I am." He didn't sound like he would be able to for long, though. Kenny took Butters' hand and moved it toward his dick, hoping he would get the idea. Butters did, wrapping his fingers around Kenny, who thrust up into them, just a couple times, but it apparently was enough.

"Uh!" Butters moaned. "Oh Geez…"

"…hold back?…" Kenny whispered, not moving again.

"Nuh uh…can't" Kenny felt Butters growing tense.

"Then go." He pressed his lips to Butters' ear and whispered "Go!"

Kenny started bucking into Butters' hand again, Butters moving to match his rhythm. For Butters, his peak built higher and higher, going up and seeming like it would never reach the top…then he heard Kenny cry out beneath him. When Butters' hand grew even more slick as Kenny spilled himself into it, his own orgasm finally overpowered him, and for long moments they both thrashed, using each other's bodies for their own needs.

"Holy God Kenny," Butters gasped when he had finally started to come down. Kenny was still shuddering beneath him, the feelings around his cock exquisite. Kenny finally stopped shaking and lay still, his breath ragged, his come cooling between their bellies. They lay burying their faces against each other, gasping for air.

Kenny turned his head, trying to catch Butters' eyes. It took a couple tries for Butters to finally be able to focus, and when he did he gave a weak smile. Kenny drew a deep breath to gasp out: "You look absolutely wrecked, Butters."

Butters lay his head back into the crook of Kenny's neck. He drew a breath of his own to answer, "You don't look much better yourself, mister."

They lay gasping and laughing together, and finally calmed down enough to speak again.

"Next time will be better," Kenny told him. "We were both too wound up; we'd waited too long."

"It _can't_ get any better than that, Kenny. That was…incredible."

"Oh, it does." Kenny nuzzled Butters' neck. "Believe me: It does."

0-0-0-0-0

"Kenny? Can I show you something?" They'd been snuggling for about twenty minutes, not saying much, just caressing each other with their lips and fingertips.

"Sure, Butters." Kenny sat up, sitting cross legged beside him on the bed, still naked.

"It's here." Butters pointed to a spot on his right hip, rolling over so Kenny could see it better. Kenny leaned over to where Butters pointed, looking like he was inspecting an important document. Even though he was looking at a deliciously pale and curvaceous hip, Kenny knew he needed to take this seriously; this was about looking at whatever Butters wanted to show him, not about sex. Kenny looked close at the skin over Butter's hip, and saw where Butters was pointing. There were tiny scars there, just dots really, in closely spaced rows of four. They looked like they could have once been very deep wounds. There were at least five of these little rows of dots, some more visible than others.

"That's where my grandma kept sticking me with a fork when we were having dinner," Butters explained matter of factly. "Before my folks finally figured out she was crazy, and had her locked up in the old folks' home."

Kenny rubbed his fingers over the little white dots on the skin of Butters' hip. Each one felt like a little Braille letter crying out to be read. They represented a moment of pain in Butters' life, and Kenny began kissing them gently. Butters watched for a moment, then laid his head back down and sighed happily.

"God, Kenny…that feels so good, what you're doing." Kenny pressed his face harder against Butters' side, his hair tickling his skin.

"Butters?" Kenny was still kissing his hip. He said very softly, "Would it be all right if I gave you a tongue bath?"

"Oh Gee…is that what it really sounds like?"

He smiled "Yes, Butters. It is." Kenny looked up from where he had his chin resting on Butters' hipbone. Butters had a couple other scars elsewhere that Kenny wanted to ask him about. "It's where I lick every inch of your body…and where everyone that's ever hurt you and left a scar, I kiss it for you until the memory doesn't hurt anymore."

Butters' breaths had gotten shallower. "That…that sounds really nice, Kenny."

It took almost an hour, but Kenny kept his promise to lick every inch, and he gave Butters another orgasm soon after he had gotten started. Afterward, he continued licking Butters everywhere, slowing down and even stopping anywhere Butters was ticklish, just to resume again somewhere else. As he progressed, his tongue would occasionally pause over an old scar somewhere; at a small one a few inches above Butter's left knee he asked "Where did you get this one?"

"When I fell off my bike and hit a rock…"

Kenny's tongue moved on, cataloguing every scar: A burn near his wrist from bacon grease, a smallpox vaccine ( _do they even still give those?_ Kenny wondered), a long one on his calf from a fall from a tree…Butters whispered in a soft voice where each scar had come from, confessing a "I don't remember" at a few. Kenny kissed each one of them individually, lingering on them all.

Butters hesitated at one on the back of his left thigh just below the crease of his buttocks. It looked like a sideways teardrop. Kenny nuzzled it, humming, prodding him. Butters finally whispered, simply: "Belt buckle."

Kenny froze for a moment, closing his eyes. Then he gently pressed his lips to the little puckered scar and angrily whispered against it: " _Fuck!_ " He kissed it again. "I'm so sorry, Butters." He put his arms over his head and pressed them against Butters' sides, spreading his hands across his back in an awkward but tender hug. He kissed the scar again. "No one." He kissed it again. " _No one_ …is ever going to hurt you again. That's a promise."

He spent a great deal of time on that scar before finally moving on. When he was finally finished a long time later, he gave a very dazed looking Butters a gentle kiss, and they curled up and fell asleep together, waking up hours later together to make love again. Kenny was right: It did get better.

0-0-0-0-0

The next morning, Kyle texted to ask if they were busy. Kenny texted back 'nope' and a minute later, Stan's car pulled into the driveway. Kenny and Butters greeted them at the door, holding hands. Kyle was carrying a large bag with the  _Spencer's Gifts_  trademark, and they could see several wrapped presents inside.

"We got you some housewarming gifts," Kyle said after they had sat down in the living room. Butters brought cans of soda for everyone, and settled next to Kenny in the La-Z-Boy recliner; Stan and Kyle were on the couch.

"This one's from Kenny." Kyle handed Butters a long rectangular package wrapped in bright purple wrapping paper.

"You gift wrapped them?" Kenny asked, surprised. "Thank you!"

"It was fun," Stan said. Butter tore off the wrapping paper and grinned. "A black light! Thank you, Kenny!" He leaned in to give Kenny a quick kiss.

"Aww…that was sweet." Kyle said, smiling. He reached into the bag and brought up the smallest package there; it looked like an oversized stuffed envelope. "Kenny, you had about five dollars left over, so you and I both got him these." Butters opened this package and pulled out five packs of 200 glow in the dark stars. "That's a thousand stars; that should get you off to a good start."

Butters was shaking his head in amazement. "Thank you Kyle," he said, grinning. "I can't wait to see how these look up on the ceiling."

"And finally I got you these," Stan said, reaching into the bag to pull out two long cylinders, both wrapped in red foil wrap. "You've probably figured out by now that they're posters."

Butters laughed and unwrapped them. One was called 'Ghost Ship'. It was mostly black velvet with a rendering of a pirate ship in blues and yellows, with skeletons on deck as the crew. The other was of Mickey Mouse flipping them off, only the colors were all reversed, like a photographic negative. "That one looked really cool under the black light at the store," Stan said.

"Thanks, Stan," Butters said happily. "Thank you, everyone."

Once Stan and Kyle had left, Butters announced his intention to make a big dinner for the two of them, and that Kenny should stay out of his kitchen, "because I'm making a surprise." Kenny made sure he didn't want any help, and asked if it was okay if he went upstairs and put a few of the stars up over their bed. Butters nodded and said, "but save me some to do, too."

Kenny took the black light and one of the packs of stars up to their room, set the light up on the nightstand next to what was now his side of the bed, took off his shoes and socks, stood up on the mattress and started putting stars on the ceiling. Forty minutes later he had finished the first pack and climbed down from the bed to admire his work. Under the black light, even just the first 200 stars were pretty impressive.

He started down the stairs to the living room, calling out so Butters would know he was coming. He had set a very elaborate table with his parents' best china and silverware, and two lit candles on the table. "This is very nice," Kenny told him as they were eating the dinner Butters had made: two big salads and noodles and beef stroganoff.

"I didn't have much to work with. I really need to go grocery shopping. But I figure there's no reason we can't eat like civilized people!"

"Butters, if this is what you can make with 'not much to work with', I can imagine how we'll be eating when you've filled your pantry."

" _Our_ pantry, Kenny."

Afterward, Kenny took Butters up to their room to show him what he had done. He turned on the black light as they entered and Butters looked up at the ceiling, delighted. "And that's only the first 200 of them. There's 800 more to go. And when you do this—" he turned the overhead light off, leaving the room dark with only the stars glowing overhead. "We can fall asleep under this."

"They're beautiful, Kenny."

He turned the light back on and pulled Butters into a hug. " _You're_ beautiful, Butters."

0-0-0-0-0

Later that evening, when they were in bed naked and fooling around with just the black light on, Butters asked what he thought was a fairly ordinary question, but by the time Kenny was through processing all the implications of it, it seemed to him that it was potentially life-altering.

"Kenny? Did you know that Vaseline glows under a black light?"

Kenny raised his head to look at him. He was busy licking one of Butters' nipples and then blowing a stream of cool air over it. He had been doing this for the past five minutes, moving from side to side, and the results were endlessly fascinating to him. "What…?"

"Yeah!" Butters sat up suddenly and reached behind him to pull something out from under his pillow. Kenny recognized the familiar pale yellow jar immediately. Under the weird violet lighting, it glowed a ghostly bluish-white. Butters pulled the lid off and dropped it on the mattress, then stuck his finger into the jar and brought out a mid-sized glob of Vaseline. It shined like a blob of phosphorus on his fingertip. He reached over and smeared it down Kenny's right forearm and over his wrist, where it left a pale blue luminous streak, like dim neon, brighter where the greasy gel was thickest.

Kenny stared at it like it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. "Oh my God…" he whispered reverently, staring at his forearm. "It _does_!" He looked up at Butters for a moment, then back at his arm. "Let me see that." His voice was still trembling with awe. He took the jar from Butters, dipped his own finger in and brought up a much larger glob and held it up and stared at it. "How is it I've been alive for almost eighteen years, and I'm only now finding out about this?"

Butters smiled; in the weird purple light, it looked almost spooky. "See…aren't you glad you met me?"

Kenny looked at him and laughed. "Yeah…this is something that I seriously needed to know about." He looked at the shining blob on his finger and suddenly said, "Hey…straighten up like this." He knelt straight up in front of Butters, chest out, head held high, to demonstrate what he wanted him to do. "Good posture!"

Butters did as he was asked, kneeling on the mattress imitating Kenny's pose. "Why am I—?"

"Because when you slouch, you wrinkle my canvas," Kenny told him, and wiped his index finger in a slow arc across Butters' chest, tracing a curved line just above his sternum that looked like a streak of moonlight against his skin. Kenny twisted his finger slightly to use the Vaseline he hadn't wiped off it yet to trace another glowing path down Butters' side in a curved line from above his right nipple to below his ribcage. Butters was frozen, staring straight ahead. Kenny's brows furrowed as he wiped another line across Butters' belly from where he'd left off, going below his navel and ending under his ribs on the other side. He stared at what he'd drawn on Butters thus far in amazement; each streak his finger had left was like a faint blue neon trail. Butters looked down to see what he was doing.

"No…don't look yet! Look up at me." Kenny stuck his finger back in the jar for more Vaseline, and continued the line he had started, going up his left side now. Butters twitched and giggled as Kenny's finger hit a ticklish spot near his armpit. Kenny took his finger away immediately. "I'll try not to tickle you, okay? But…you can't let a little discomfort stand in the way of great art."

"I'm trying, Kenny!" Butters was breathing in short harsh puffs through his nose.

Kenny dipped his finger into the Vaseline jar again and carefully finished the outline he had drawn, bringing it to a close above Butter's sternum. He leaned in closer as he went back to add some details, a couple of points going up toward Butters' shoulders, and finally he added a couple of dime-sized dots in the middle.

"There!" Kenny said, gripping Butters' shoulders with both hands to admire his own work. His right index finger and forearm were glowing. "I'm done. Don't slouch, and stand up and come over here." They both stood, looking at each other's naked bodies in the purple light. "Close your eyes…" Butters did, and Kenny stood behind him and took hold of his biceps and carefully led him to the mirror over the dresser. As he stood in front of it looking at their reflections, he hoped the light would be bright enough here to show what he had drawn. They looked like two ghostly apparitions in the glow of the black light, but the lines on Butters' chest were clearly visible. Kenny smiled.

"Okay…open your eyes."

Butters did, took one look at their reflections and at the shining lavender-colored drawing on himself, and clapped his hands to his mouth. Kenny grinned at his reaction. He had drawn a crude but easily recognizable outline of Hello Kitty on Butters' chest and stomach, right down to the two eyes and pointed ears.

"Oh my God…" Butters whispered, stepping closer to the mirror to admire Kenny's drawing. He turned to look at Kenny for a moment, turned to face the mirror again, and burst out laughing. Kenny smiled, enjoying his response.

They stood staring into the mirror for a long time together; then Kenny took Butter's hand. "It'll be a shame to ruin this," he said, still admiring his work. "But we're going to have to. There's something else I want to try." He led Butters back over to the bed and picked the Vaseline jar up again. The design Kenny had drawn on Butters' chest was much brighter here, closer to the black light. "All right, Butters. Now I'm going to be a complete slut. Please forgive me." He brought a generous glob of Vaseline from the jar and reached down to wipe most of it on Butters' erection. He gave Butters a smile, and climbed up onto the bed, knelt on all fours, and wiped what was left of the Vaseline between his buttocks. "Enjoy the view," he said, pressing the side of his head to a pillow.

Butters looked down at himself, and then at what Kenny was offering him, and as he climbed up onto the bed behind Kenny and prepared to enter him, he thought he would enjoy the view just fine, thank you.

0-0-0-0-0

"Tomorrow I'm going to draw Cartman on top of the giant Cheesy Poof," Kenny said seriously, tracing his fingers down Butters' chest as if to show him where he was going to do this. Kenny's drawing was practically unrecognizable now. They were cuddled up together enjoying their post-sex afterglow. "And every day, he'll keep eating his way a little closer to earth…"

"It'll be like a race," Butters replied sleepily. "How many days it will take for him to finally eat his way down to the ground."

"It gets more interesting though. Because soon—" Kenny ran his fingertips through Butters' patch of blond pubic hair. "Tweek's underpants gnomes are going to attack from down here, and start eating the Cheesy Poof from the bottom, trying to knock it over and send Cartman falling to his death—"

Butters doubled over with laughter, rolling onto his side. Kenny curled up behind him and hugged him. "Vegas will be laying odds on who's going to win," Kenny whispered. "My money's on the gnomes."

Butters finally stopped laughing long enough to say: "We're gonna need a _lot_ more Vaseline."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone were tempted to create art for this that I could embed in the story ( _cough_ the scene where Kenny and Butters are looking in the mirror at Kenny's 'art' _cough_ ) they'd be my new best friend :-)


	9. The Perfect Storm

They easily fell into a routine that worked well for both of them. Monday through Friday they went to school together, and on the way home Kenny went to his parent's house. Most days Butters dropped him off and took the SUV home and Kenny would walk home an hour or two later. Occasionally he'd leave the SUV for Kenny and walk home himself, especially on days when Kenny wanted to go grocery shopping for his family. Butters insisted on giving him money for groceries, overcoming his initial resistance by explaining, "It's not charity Kenny, it's for Karen. As far as I'm concerned, she's my family now, too. Even if you just get the same cheap stuff your mom always buys, at least get a lot of it."

Kenny's grades began improving. Butters was still very strict with himself about doing his own homework every evening right after supper, and Kenny started doing his alongside him. Butters was very patient with him, explaining math concepts better than his teacher did, in a way that Kenny could understand, and he began proudly showing Butters tests he'd taken with C and B grades, instead of his usual D or worse.

Sundays were their day to be alone together, but Saturdays became both of their favorite day of the week. Stan and Kyle would come over, they would have a meal and watch TV or play video games together, and it was the day when everyone could be themselves. Stan and Kyle could cuddle together with no worry about parents suddenly walking in, Kenny and Butters proudly hanging all over each other right alongside them.

This went on for three Saturdays. By the evening before the fourth one, they all knew their regular day would be cancelled as the season's first real winter storm descended with a vengeance. By Saturday morning, the town of South Park (as well as most of the state of Colorado) was buried under two feet of snow with more coming. Kenny and Butters stood by their front window looking out at the blizzard. Even though it was almost noon, it looked like early evening. Outside, windblown snow was piled up almost to the bottom of the window, and they could barely see the houses across the street. Doing anything outside was just about out of the question.

They went upstairs to Butters' old room. They'd put a flat screen TV up here, pushed the bed against the wall and piled several big stuffed animals and animal-head pillows on it, making this room their home theater. Kenny scrolled through the TV channels and was about to complain about '150 channels, and there's not one thing good on,' when he saw that the movie _The Perfect Storm_ with George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg was starting in ten minutes. He was surprised to hear Butters had never seen it.

"It's a good movie, Butters!" Kenny said, showing him the on-screen description of it, happy at the prospect of watching a movie he liked, while Butters experienced it for the first time cuddled up alongside of him while a storm of their own raged outside. "It's on the FX network, so there'll be commercials…but I bet you'll like it."

"Is it good enough for popcorn, Kenny?" Butters asked, and Kenny nodded.

They made microwave popcorn, and as the movie began, they settled back on the bed, feeding each other popcorn from a large bowl they both held. Butters sometimes nipped playfully at Kenny's fingers when he tried to feed him a kernel of popcorn; he clearly enjoyed the beginning of the movie, but as the story unfolded—the young couple wanting to get married and begin a new life, his going on a dangerous fishing expedition because they needed money, and a huge storm building and heading their way—Butters seemed more disturbed, wanting to cuddle closer to Kenny.

They got as far as when the fishing boat's ice machine broke down, and the crew had to make a choice between waiting hundreds of miles offshore for the storm to pass while thousands of dollars' worth of fish they had worked hard to catch spoiled, or try to get back to harbor through what was shaping up to be the worst storm in decades. They decided to go for it, and then the show went to a commercial.

An advertisement for the ASPCA began. As a sad looking dog in a cage stared at them and Roberta Flack began singing "The first time…ever I saw your face…" Butters sat up straight and pulled away, suddenly agitated.

"Oh Kenny—I can't watch this commercial!" He leaned forward to grab the remote from the bed. Kenny sat up alongside him and put his hand on Butters' back. Butters punched in random numbers and the channel changed to a football game. Kenny reached up to rub his neck.

"I'm sorry, Kenny!" Butters lay back again, resting his head on Kenny's arm. "I just can't stand seeing those poor animals caged up like that. And that lady singing…"

"Hey, it's okay!" Kenny ran his hand up and down his back. "We'll just watch football for a couple minutes, then go back to the movie." Butters seemed content with this for a moment and settled back, curling up against Kenny's side again.

"Kenny?" He seemed hesitant. "Just tell me, okay? I like this movie and all…but the description said it was based on a true story. They don't make a lot of movies about true stories that have happy endings. Do they…get back okay?"

Kenny hadn't been expecting to have this conversation and didn't know how to answer for a moment. He finally went with what he knew was best, at least when it came to Butters: The truth.

"No, Butters. They don't. It's pretty much just a big special effects extravaganza from here on out, until they sink."

Butters sighed. "I thought so." One of the teams on the TV scored a touchdown, and neither of them cared. "Oh hamburgers," he finally said, sitting upright again. "I guess I don't like tragedy very much! She's really gonna miss her fella!" Now Kenny regretted suggesting watching this movie to Butters, remembering the heartache (after the great special effects) that comes later on. He had never paid all that much attention to that part of the movie before.

"Do you want to stop watching it?" Kenny kind of hoped he did.

"Oh no, Kenny, I really do want to see it!" Butters was sincere. "Just promise to hold me when it gets really sad, okay?"

"You know I will." Kenny gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "We can turn it off anytime you want—"

"No…I want to watch. Even if it makes me cry." He pressed his lips against Kenny's shoulder and kissed it. "And Kenny…?

"Yes, Butters?"

Butters picked up the remote and changed the channel back. Another commercial was just ending and the movie came back, the crew packing up their gear and getting ready for their attempt to get home.

"Afterward…maybe we can have comfort sex. Y'know…if I need it?" Butters smiled, letting Kenny know that, while he was joking, he was also serious.

"Comfort sex?" Kenny smiled, and then hugged him again. "Of course we can. How can I say no to that?"

They watched the rest of the movie together. When things really started getting bad, Butters wanted to curl up tightly against Kenny. By the time the boat had been struck down by the final wave and was flooding and most of the crew was below deck knowing they were about to drown ("This is going to be hard on my little boy!"), Butters had his face against Kenny's neck watching out of the corner of his eye, his arms around him, his legs across Kenny's, practically sitting in his lap, crying. Kenny held him tight.

When the movie finally ended and the credits were scrolling, Kenny picked up the remote from where Butters had dropped it and turned the TV off. For a few moments, the only sounds were Butters quietly sobbing as he pressed his face against Kenny's shoulder, and the wind outside. Kenny pulled Butters even closer, urging him to move until he was fully in his lap now, and then carefully stood up. Butters wrapped his legs around the back of Kenny's thighs, and with their arms wrapped tightly around each other's shoulders, Kenny carried Butters down the hall and into their bedroom.

"This was a lot easier when you were on my back," Kenny whispered as he lowered Butters onto their bed. Butters looked up at him desperately, tears still running down his cheeks. Kenny crawled up onto the bed, his thighs straddling Butters' under him. Butters slid back on the mattress to give him room. Kenny reached up and gently wiped Butters' tears away with his thumbs while they gazed into each other's eyes.

Like Kenny always did when he wanted to comfort Butters, he leaned slowly toward him and pressed his lips softly to the scar next to his nose and gently placed a kiss against it. When he moved back again, he said: "I love you, Butters."

"Kenny…" Butters said, sniffing and wiping his nose with his hand. Kenny moved his hands down until his fingers were curled around the hem of Butters' shirt. Kenny's eyes questioned, and Butters' answered. Kenny lifted the shirt, Butters raising his arms over his head so Kenny could lift it off. Kenny smoothed Butters' hair against the sides of his head as he offered Butters the shirt to blow his nose on. He did, wiping his face as well and tossing the shirt aside. Then Butters reached for Kenny's shirt and pulled it off, Kenny raising his arms for him. Kenny pulled Butters up so they were kneeling in front of each other on the bed, and they reached for each other's pants, getting through the complexities of getting their pants off while kneeling, until they both were naked, Butters once again sitting on the bed with Kenny straddling his thighs, holding each other.

"That was a really good movie," Butters said quietly. "But depressing…geez."

"I know…I'm sorry about that." Kenny mumbled back, hugging him and rubbing his back. They were both getting hard, and Butters' hand trailed down Kenny's back, not stopping until it was cupping one of his buttocks.

"Kenny…please don't ever die. I just couldn't take it if you did."

Kenny felt as if his heart had just been scalded. He closed his eyes, refusing to ever lie to him. "I promise to _try,_ Butters," he whispered. He hugged him tighter, forearms flat on Butter's back, chests and legs pressed together, dicks poking each other…he was trying to touch as much of Butters at once as he possibly could. "I want to grow old with you. I want to be in my bed when I'm 80, dying of old age…and I want the last thing I ever see to be your face…even if you're all wrinkled and bald." He kissed Butters' cheek and left his lips pressed there to whisper, "I love you."

"Kenny…" he whispered back. The moment stretched out, and Butters sighed into Kenny's neck, not speaking.

"Yeah, Butters?" Butters' fingers were exploring, and when he still didn't say anything else, Kenny added: "Tell me about comfort sex?"

Butters chuckled. "I, uh. Can we do it the other way this time? You know…you in me?"

Kenny cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? I'm not sure how…comforting that would be."

"Yes, please." It had become their way of answering each other's questions when 'no' was not an acceptable reply. He picked up the bottle of lotion and handed it to Kenny. "It's exactly what I want."

Kenny spent a long time making sure he was ready, with just a single finger at first, then two. He taught Butters how to relax, whispering words of encouragement to him, so it wouldn't hurt. He was as patient with him as Butters had been when he explained the quadratic formula, and when he was sure Butters was ready, he entered him slowly. Just like it had been with Butters' first time, Kenny knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for long, and he lay on top of Butters, keeping as still as he could, watching for any sign of pain or discomfort.

"This is as close…as you can ever get to someone," Kenny whispered.

Butters was breathing in short hard gasps as Kenny clung to him. "Aren't you…supposed to move around in there…or go in and out, or something?"

Kenny whispered, trying to keep control of his breathing, to hold himself back: "Butters, if I so much as blink right now, I'm going to come."

"Oh…okay Kenny." Butters held him tight, rubbing his back, his neck, kissing his hair above his ear, licking his neck…but keeping his lower body as still as he could. He could feel in every muscle in Kenny's body how close to the edge he was getting, and wanted to time what he planned to do just right. When he sensed Kenny was hitting the point of no return, he whispered urgently, "Kenny? I know you're never going to leave me. You want to know how I know?"

Kenny's breaths were coming faster; he was about to lose control. "How, Butters?"

Butters moved his hands from Kenny's back to the sides of his face, making him look at him. "Because I'm going to hold onto you forever. Like this."

Butters clenched some muscle deep within himself, and the effect was like a warm slick glove drawing Kenny in even deeper and igniting every nerve center in his body starting at the head of his cock and spreading outward. Butters watched Kenny's eyes fly open and his pupils flare just before he buried his face against Butters' neck and moaned loudly as he lost himself in a shuddering release. Butters held him while he thrashed, hands caressing his back, whispering in his ear, and as Kenny finally came down enough to be able to hear again, he realized Butters was repeating over and over, "…ever die, Kenny. You can't ever die…"

Kenny hugged him back tight, pressing his face into his pillow so Butters wouldn't see the tears rolling down his cheeks.


	10. When I Make A Promise

They lay together for a long time while the wind blew snow against the window. Kenny kissed him repeatedly, until his face became its usual serene, happy self again and he started kissing him back, nipping playfully at Kenny's lips. The daylight was starting to fade when Butters finally looked away from Kenny's face. He sighed. "Much as I hate to say this, I think one of us should at least think about starting dinner."

"Yeah." Neither of them moved for a moment. "I guess you're right."

Butters started to get up. "I'll go make something. You want my baked ziti?"

Kenny put a hand on Butters' forearm, gently restraining him from getting out of bed. He knew he had something he needed to fix here. "Ziti sounds great Butters. But…can we talk about something for a minute first, though?"

"Sure, Kenny!" Butters laid his head back down on Kenny's chest and Kenny wrapped both of his arms around him. "Is everything okay?"

"Ah, Butters." Kenny didn't know how to begin this. Any conversation he tried to start about the possibility of him dying would just make him sound like he was possibly suicidal. "Take a look at where I am right now, and what I'm doing. Nothing could be better than this." He hugged Butters tighter for a second to demonstrate what he meant by 'this'. "And I meant what I said before, about growing old with you." He sighed. "But there is something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

"Okay." Butters hugged him gently around his ribcage, then fisted a hand on his shirt as he lay listening to Kenny's heartbeat.

"That…movie." Kenny said. "Any time I ever watched it before, it was mostly just for the cool special effects and the disaster; but that couple…I never really paid much attention to that part before today. And I kind of wish maybe I hadn't of suggested we watch it—"

"Oh Kenny, I loved it! It feels good to cry like that once in awhile, you know? Because it feels great afterwards when you've stopped, especially if someone's there holding you. If I'd been watching it alone, I probably would have turned it off before their ice machine broke. But I knew you would take care of me."

Kenny pressed his face into Butters' blond cowlicks and kissed his scalp. "Oh God…just. I love you, Butters."

"Oh geez, I know you do!" Butters said emphatically. "And you know I just worship you! You tell me you love me all the time, you know, even when you don't actually say it, like how you hold doors open for me, and hold onto my arm when we're walking on ice."

Kenny closed his eyes; what Butters was saying were the sweetest words he'd ever heard said to him. He treasured each one as Butters continued.

"You want to know the first time you told me you loved me, Kenny? It was when you found me outside freezing and put your coat around me, and told me you had to go find something to free me, but you'd only be gone a couple minutes." Butters' fist tightened on his shirt for a moment. "I think some people might have thought it was too much trouble, and figured they'd given me their coat to wear, and just left me there after that…but I knew right then you weren't going to do that." Butters hugged him tighter with the arm not lying on his stomach. "I knew you would come back for me."

They lay quietly for a minute, and then Butters said, "But just listen to me, going on. You said you had something to say?" He raised his head to look at Kenny and was surprised to see tears leaking down the sides of Kenny's face. "Oh, Kenny…" He gently wiped the tears away with the sides of his index fingers. "What is it?"

"Oh God, Butters." Kenny pulled him back to his chest again. "What you just said to me. My own mother never said anything that nice." Kenny raised a hand when it seemed like Butters wanted to say something else. "No, let me get this out. I, um. I would be lost without you, Butters. And I know how much you depend on me, too. And…all I can really tell you is that I promise I'll do everything I possibly can to be here, always…shit, I'll quit smoking cigarettes for you. I'm going to have one more after dinner tonight, and then I'm done. I uh… I'll always look both ways before crossing the street… _but_. No one can promise that nothing bad will ever happen." He kissed Butters' hair again. "But I can promise you one thing, and you know that when I make a promise, I'm going to keep that promise, no matter what."

Kenny started rubbing Butters' back as he went on: "So…what I _will_ promise you…is that if anything ever happens to me, _YOU_ will be okay. I know it'll hurt, worse than anything ever did before…but if something bad ever happens to me, you need to hang in there, let Stan and Kyle take care of you, and I know you'll be all right. And this isn't something I'm just saying. It's something I know."

Kenny didn't like how this was coming out. It didn't sound reassuring at all, and even worse, he knew he was getting very close to a line he isn't supposed to cross, but he had chosen his words carefully in that regard at least, and he didn't go over it. If he had said _because if I die, I'll just be back in a day or two, and you'll forget all about it_ , that would be crossing the line, and if he somehow convinced Butters that he was telling the truth, it would ruin everything. Kenny would probably die within the hour from some ridiculous household accident (and Satan would make sure Butters was there to witness it)…and he would never come back. Satan had promised him that just as sure as what Kenny was promising Butters now.

"I love you, Butters," he said for what felt like the tenth time in the past hour, because it was so true. "And all that shit I just said didn't come out the way I wanted it to at all. This is about what you said before, about me never dying. I wish I could promise you that…but you know I can't, and I won't ever promise you anything I can't deliver on. But it was something I had to say. I need you to know you'll be okay if…God forbid… and you _will_ be."

"Kenny, you're okay, right?" Butters looked upset.

"Yes, Butters, _yes_. I'm happier than I've ever been." He traced his fingers lightly down Butters' back. "Everything is good Butters, and it will be for a long time to come; please, just remember what I said, okay?"

"All right." He still looked uncertain.

"Butters…I am so happy with the way my life is. I've never been happier than I am right now." He held the sides of Butters' head and looked directly into his eyes. "I want to grow old with you, Butters. I'm going to remind you to take Geritol every day, and _not_ to wear black socks with sandals."

Butters finally smiled, recalling an incident with his grandma. "And I'll remind you that the car keys don't belong in the freezer." They smiled at each other. "I'm going to go make dinner now." He kissed Kenny, hard. "I love you."

0-0-0-0-0

The next morning, Butters wanted to go grocery shopping, and Kenny asked him if he minded going alone. The snow plows had just been through that morning clearing the roads, and the grocery store was only three miles away down mostly residential streets, otherwise Kenny would have insisted on going along. "There's something I need to take care of here." Butters nodded agreeably, and as soon as they'd kissed and hugged goodbye and Butters had driven off, Kenny bundled up in a sweat shirt and his parka and set out on foot, locking the front door behind him. He walked until he had a choice to make: Left for Stan's house or straight ahead for Kyle's. He pulled out his phone and texted Kyle:

 _Where R U guys and can I come over?_ It was a given that wherever they were, they were together, especially on a Sunday, even after last night's blizzard; and Kenny pointedly hadn't asked if they were busy like he usually would have. He hoped he wasn't interrupting anything _too_ important.

His phone rang almost immediately. "Hey Kenny. We're at Stan's." Kenny made that left turn and started walking faster. "Is everything okay?"

"I've been better I guess. Is it all right if I come over?"

"Of course. Where are you?"

"I'll be knocking on Stan's door in about two minutes." When he reached their driveway, they were already standing at the front door, waiting for him.

"My parents and Shelly are out, it's just us," Stan said as Kenny stomped snow off his boots just outside the door. He took off his boots and stepped into the living room in his socks, grateful to be inside where it was warm again.

"Kenny?" Kyle asked once they were sitting together on the couch. "I know you two didn't have a fight; what's wrong?"

Kenny was visibly trembling. "No, it's nothing like that. I don't think I'll ever argue with him about anything. We just had a really fucked up, weird day yesterday and there's some shit I need to get straightened out because of it. Oh, and the fact that I quit smoking cigarettes yesterday isn't helping either…and I would fucking kill for one right now, even if I have to tell him about it—he'd understand."

"Geez, Kenny," Kyle tried, not sure how to answer him. Stan had something useful to say though.

"I've got a couple cigarettes Kenny, if you'd like one." They both looked at him in surprise. He explained with a lopsided smile. "They're in the back of my underwear drawer, and they're about eight years old, so I hope they're still good." He was already moving toward the stairs. "I have some Jameson Whiskey too, if you'd like that." Stan laughed sadly. "You know…from those days."

Kyle nodded; he knew what Stan meant. They were left over from what he thought of as the dark days, the days when Stan had been so cynical and depressed all the time that it had nearly ripped their friendship apart.

Kenny nodded. "Thanks, Stan." Stan disappeared up the stairs and Kenny looked at his feet. "Shit. I sure didn't mean to bring _that_ up. I'm just causing trouble everywhere I go."

Kyle ignored that. "You'll have to smoke outside, you know." He stood up, and watched as Stan came back down, carrying a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He handed them to Kenny, who took one out with trembling fingers. There were three more left in the pack, which he handed back to Stan. "Don't give me any more of these, please. I just need one" He stood up. "I guess outside the front door?"

"Yeah, Kenny. That's fine. Do you want company?"

"Yes—" He almost said, 'yes, please,' but then stopped, leaving it at just the single word. 'Yes please' was something he reserved for Butters. They put on their coats and stood outside Stan's front door, Kenny gratefully lighting the cigarette and taking a deep drag from it.

"So…" Kyle asked after Kenny had had a few minutes to calm down. "What's going on?"

"I made the mistake of watching the movie _The Perfect Storm_ with him yesterday. It really got to him." Kenny was watching Kyle; he was sure they both had seen it, but if anyone would understand what he meant, Kyle would. It looked like he did too, because a look of understanding flashed across his face.

"Oh…that couple…"

"Yeah. And now he's all freaked out about me dying. And I keep thinking, if I did, I don't think he would do very well with it." He took a deep drag off the cigarette and said: "Guys, I need a favor."

"Sure, Kenny," Stan replied. "Anything. What can we do?"

"Oh fuck, I hope nothing, ever. But just promise me something. If anything ever _does_ happen to me…uh, would you please stay with him for awhile, make sure he's okay?"

"Of course we will," Kyle said. "We would do that anyway."

"Yeah, but…this is going to sound really egotistical, but treat it like it was a suicide watch. At least for a day or two. I'm really worried about him, if something happens…" _And I'll be back soon and you'll all forget I died and everything will be hunky dory again_.

"We will, Kenny. If it's this important to you, then you have my word on it." Stan reached out to shake his hand; Kenny had to switch his cigarette to his other hand to shake back.

"Mine too, Kenny." Kyle shook his hand next.

They looked at each other for a moment. Kenny ground the cigarette out into the snow and put the butt into his coat pocket. "Thanks, you two," he said sincerely. He looked down at his feet. "You know I would do anything for you guys, right?"

"Yeah, dude. We do know," Stan said. "That's why I'm not ever going to forget we had this conversation." Kyle nodded in agreement. "The four of us are all going to be celebrating our retirements together someday, you just watch. And Kenny…if what you said, you know, happens…we got your back, okay?"

Stan's sincerity, and Kyle nodding as he agreed with every word, convinced Kenny that he'd accomplished what he had set out to do. "Thanks, guys." He looked up at the sky for a moment; it was probably getting close to noon. "I should probably go, too. He just went to the grocery store, and I want to get home before he does."

"I could give you a ride if you like." Stan was already pulling his keys out of his pocket. "It's pretty cold outside."

Kenny nodded. "Thanks, Stan." Stan locked his front door and they walked to his driveway together. Just as they were about to get into the car, Kenny's cell phone went off with Butters' ringtone. He grinned as he pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up, letting the song's refrain play in its entirety to his captive audience. Kyle rolled his eyes at their choice of ringtones; it was the chorus from Nazareth's 'Enough Love':

 _I've got_ _ **enough!**_ _love now / I've got_ _ **enough**_ _! love now / I've got_ _ **enough!**_ _/ I've got_ _ **enough!**_ _(love) / I've got_ _ **enough**_ _! love now_.

Kenny answered his phone. "Butterballs!" he said happily, and smiled even wider as Butter's laugher pealed from the phone. That was the first time Kenny had ever called him that.

"Hey, Kenny! I just called to tell you I'm leaving the grocery store. As soon as I load up and take the cart back, I should be home in about ten minutes."

"Why don't you make it fifteen minutes and drive extra careful, okay?"

"Oh, all right." Kenny could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll see you then. I love you!"

"I love you too. See you soon." Kenny hung up. "He's just leaving the store. We have plenty of time." They got into Stan's car, Kenny in the back, and as they were backing into the street, Kyle's phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and frowned before answering it.

"Hey, Butters." Kenny leaned forward against the front seat, trying to listen. Kyle said into the phone: "Good…Uh huh, yeah, me and Stan are just, uh, driving home from lunch" He looked Kenny straight in the eyes. "Yeah, that _was_ a lot of snow yesterday." His eyes narrowed as he listened for a moment. "Sure, Butters. I can do it right now, if you want me to….No, it's no problem…I'll call you later today, okay?…Yeah, you're welcome." He closed his phone and looked at Kenny. "Kenny…he wants me to call you, and ask you if you're 'okay.' He said he was worried about you, and said you seemed a little 'off' yesterday, and just wanted me to ask."

"Shit. This is my fault…although having my boyfriend fall to pieces over a sad movie and asking me to promise never to die…that, and giving up cigarettes yesterday. I guess that did put me a little off. When you call him later, tell him…most of what I just said, in your own words…and tell him I'm fine. I really am."

They arrived at Kenny and Butters' house and sat at the curb for a moment saying their goodbyes. Just before Kenny opened the door, Kyle said: "You two are really, really happy together, aren't you." It wasn't a question. "I mean, yesterday's movie aside…it's really good for you guys, isn't it?"

Kenny smiled. "It's the best, man." He opened the door, got out, and looked back in on them. "Yeah…I love my life. I love him. And…" He nodded at them one more time. "I love you guys, too." He quickly slammed the door and walked away. He could feel them staring after him for a few moments before they drove off.

Mindful of the cigarette he had just smoked, Kenny went inside, went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and brushed his teeth. He figured one small lie by omission was okay, and mentioning that he'd had a cigarette would lead to questions. He was glad he'd had that talk with Stan and Kyle.

He went back to the living room and heard Butters pulling into the driveway. He went outside to help carry groceries in, and once everything was inside and piled up on the table they fell against each other, kissing like they hadn't seen each other in days.

"Butterballs, huh?" Butters breathed into Kenny's mouth. Kenny laughed against his lips.

"Yeah, well, you know…"

Butters watched him closely as he said: "How'd you like to go upstairs and butter them up right now?" He loved watching Kenny's pupils dilate when he said things like that.


	11. Three Years Go By

Kenny had been lying awake next to Butters for a long time, listening to him snoring softly. Every so often, he reached over to the nightstand and flipped the black light on for a few seconds and then turned it off, turning the ceiling and walls back into a blazing panorama of fake stars. They had both kept adding to them over the three years they'd lived here; once the ceiling was full, they'd moved on to every other available surface. By their estimate, there were close to 4,000 glow in the dark stars now, on the ceiling, the walls, the dresser, doors, headboard...Butters coughed once and rolled over onto his side, burrowing under the blanket.

Kenny was quietly celebrating an anniversary today, one he couldn't even share with Butters. He thought of it as his third birthday; three years ago today he had returned from the dead for the last time, after Stan and Kyle had deciphered the Frog Prince's message and brought him back (and then forgot all about it). Every day that another cello didn't fall out of the sky and kill him, every day that he didn't get his arm caught in the garbage disposal, seemed like a gift. He had never gone anywhere near this long between deaths before.

In five days, he and Butters would be celebrating their third anniversary together with much more fanfare, including a party they would be hosting. Butters had given him the same Hallmark card on their first and second anniversaries, after Kenny had looked at it the first time and declared it to be the most beautiful card anyone had ever given him. For their second year, Butters had added another note to it and signed it again along with the year. Kenny knew the entire card by heart, and he looked forward to reading in five days what Butters had written for their third year. He knew it read so far:

_Kenny,_

_Today is the day I got my freedom, a house, a car, $40,112.66 …and YOU. Of all those things, you are the only one I ever really needed._

_I will love you until the end of the universe,_

_Leopold_

_...._

_Year two: We had a heck of a year, didn't we? Our 'little business' really took off. We did it! …and it would all mean nothing without you. This has been the happiest two years of my life. You are the half of me that makes me whole. I love you with all my heart, Kenneth McCormick,_

_Yours 4evr,_

_Leo_

Kenny rolled over so he could look at this wondrous gift the universe had given him. Butters was just a lump under the blanket, facing away with only the top of his head visible. Even at just 20 years old, his hair was already thinning, and Butters was certain, but not too concerned, that he'd be bald by the time he was 30. Kenny had told him it would be a good look on him.

Six months after Kenny and Butters got together (and a week after high school graduation), Kenny had been helping Karen with her summer school homework, and had gotten into an argument with Kevin that almost led to blows.

"So, you really did turn out to be a full-fledged fudgepacker," Kevin had said mockingly after Karen had left the room to get them snacks. He'd been drinking their dad's beer for most of the afternoon, and Kenny knew it was just a matter of time before he started something. He'd already considered the possibility of calling Butters on speed dial and telling him to come get them. He knew that when Butters answered and he said their signal ("Me and Karen"), Butters would be there in less than three minutes. Kevin finished: "I might have figured."

"Shut the fuck up, Kevin," Kenny snapped at him. "What are you even doing here, except eating their food? I don't buy all that for you, I buy it for Karen, and for mom. And for dad, whenever he decides to come home."

"You don't actually _buy_ any of it though, really, do you?" and Kenny bristled at that. Kevin always knew which buttons to push, because there was at least some truth behind each word. "That little albino faggot you're shacking up with does."

"Fuck you," Kenny said, standing up. If there was one thing, Kenny could be far more menacing, especially when Kevin was drunk. Kevin might be older, but Kenny was bigger, and much more in control, especially with Kevin swaying in the doorway with at least five beers under his belt. "Either you're leaving, or I'm leaving with Karen, and mom can deal with getting your drunk ass arrested." He took a step toward Kevin, his fists balled up at his sides. "It'd be a whole lot better if you just left."

Kevin almost seemed ready to fight, then thought better of it and backed away. "Fine." He went into the kitchen, took a six pack out of the fridge, and stormed out the door. Kenny heard his truck start and drive off a moment later.

"He's gone?" Kenny turned around. Karen was standing behind him looking nervous, holding a plate with cookies on it. He went over to her, set the plate on a table and hugged her.

"Yeah, Karen. He's gone. Be sure to lock the door when I leave later. And call me if he comes back."

Kenny drove home an hour later, angry and depressed. He had no more than walked in the front door and settled into Butters' embrace when Butters asked, "What's wrong, Kenny?"

Kenny smiled sadly at him. "I'm _that_ transparent, Butters?"

Butters kissed him. "I can tell when you're upset." He took Kenny's hand and led him over to the couch. They sat down together, Butters pulling Kenny to him until Kenny's head was resting on his chest, the opposite of how they usually cuddled.

"Kevin was there today," Kenny said, speaking into Butters' shirt. "He was drunk, and being a dick." Butters ran his fingers up and down his back, trying to sooth him. "And I need to go out and get a job now that we're out of school, and start bringing some money in."

Butters sighed. "Kevin said something to you about that?"

Kenny wrapped his fingers around the material of Butters' shirt the way Butters did when they usually cuddled. "Yeah, he did. And he has a point. I know we've been being careful, but we're going to burn through your money and be in trouble eventually."

"Kenny? What if I told you I've been thinking about that? I was going to surprise you tomorrow when Stan and Kyle are here…but what would you think about starting a business with me?"

Kenny raised his head to look at him. "I think…that any business you ran would turn out great. What's your company going to be called?" He put his head back on Butter's chest.

"Any company _we_ ran Kenny, and it's going to be _our_ company. And I was thinking of calling it 'McCormick-Stotch Enterprises.'"

Kenny snorted laughter. "Uh…since it's your idea, and your money, shouldn't those be the other way around?"

"Nope! I wrote it down on paper both ways, and I like it that way better." Butters smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "It looks more balanced."

Kenny straightened up a moment to kiss him, then put his head back on Butters' chest. "Whatever you say, boss. What's our business going to do?"

"That's going to be the surprise. You'll find out tomorrow when our friends are here. I told them a few days ago. They're sworn to secrecy!"

"They're in on this, too?"

They're probably just going to help us get started, but if it works out…who knows? It could turn into full time jobs for all of us."

The next morning, Butters asked Kenny to carry his mother's sewing machine down from the guest bedroom to the living room table. Kenny did, curious about what Butters was up to. There were several large shipping boxes on the living room floor next to the table that hadn't been there last night. Kenny moved some of the bric-a-brac from Butters' other projects (scraps of cloth, long pieces of string and yarn) to set the sewing machine down and went to the garage to find an extension cord.

He lingered in the garage for several minutes, looking at the tools on the workbench and wondering if there was anything else he could bring inside that Butters might find useful. Since he had no idea what Butters was up to (other than that it involved sewing), he couldn't think of anything else to bring, so he finally went back inside with just the extension cord.

Kenny knew Butters was up to something big the moment he walked in the living room. He was sitting on the recliner in front of the living room table, doing something Kenny never thought he would ever see Butters doing. He had a large black and white stuffed bear, one that Kenny didn't recognize, face down on the table on top of a pillow. There were scissors and Exact-o-knifes on the table next to it. Butters had opened up a seam on the stuffed bear's back, and it looked as though he had pulled half of the stuffing out of it and piled it on the table next to it, giving the back of the bear an odd, deflated look.

Butters looked up at him briefly, pretending to barely acknowledge him. "Kenny," he said tersely, and Kenny knew the object of the game Butters was playing right now was not to laugh.

He nodded back. "Butters." He plugged in the extension cord and ran it over to the sewing machine as if there was nothing at all odd about Butters performing some kind of vivisection on a stuffed bear. Kenny was determined to not only play along with his game, but to win it.

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Kenny sat on the couch and watched him 'work'. He was trying to push something deeper inside the back of the plushie. Kenny finally asked, "How's your day going?"

"It'd be better if this stupid thing—" Butter's pushed his fingers even deeper inside the bear. "Would fit the way it's supposed to!"

Kenny watched him struggle for a moment. More importantly, his lips were starting to tremble as he tried not to laugh. "I'm sure whatever you're doing will be a complete success."

Butters was losing it. He leaned forward trying to hide the smile on his face. "Kenny…is there something you want to ask me about?"

"Oh no, Butters, this is just your typical day in South Park." Kenny blinked, as if noticing the dissected bear on the table for the first time. "Oh, unless maybe you're referring to the elephant in the room? Or, I mean the stuffed bear on our living room table…and why are you performing an autopsy on it?"

Kenny had almost cracked him, but Butters was still hanging on. "Well, Kenny. First of all, it's not a bear, it's a _panda_. And second of all, this isn't an autopsy, it's…surgery!"

Kenny watched Butters' lips trying to hold back the laugh he wanted to unleash and knew he had won. "All right, Butters. I stand corrected. On both counts." Butters finally started to laugh, and Kenny swooped in for the kill: "Nonetheless, the fundamental question remains: What the fuck are you doing?"

Butters pitched forward, burying his face into the back of the stuffed panda, laughing. Kenny smiled happily, enjoying his victory for a moment, then stood up and dropped onto the chair next to Butters, who fell against his chest, still giggling. They kissed, and Butters settled his head against Kenny's chest, listening to his heartbeat, as he said: "I just don't think little kids' alarm clocks should be all the way across the room on a nightstand. Wouldn't it have been nice when you were a kid to wake up to music and maybe your mother's voice telling you it was time to get up, coming from inside your teddy bear?"

Kenny's eyebrow cocked the way it did whenever Butters said something that surprised him. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, see, look!" Butters sat up and picked the stuffed panda off the table to show Kenny. "I made the panda from plush material and a pattern I made. The alarm clock part goes here." Butters' fingers spread apart the seam he had opened across the back of the panda to show the face of a very thin digital clock radio, which was currently flashing 12:00. "I put Velcro on this part, to cover up where the radio goes. It runs on batteries, and it'll play CDs, or you can wake up to music, and there's a voice chip inside so someone can record a message." He pressed a small button on the face of the clock, and Butter's own voice issued from the panda: " _It's time to wake up, Kenny. I love you!_ " He looked embarrassed by that. "Of course, this is just a prototype…"

"Butters, this is amazing…" Kenny took the stuffed panda from him, holding it up to look at the front of it before turning it over to look at the back. A simple Velcro flap folded down over the face of the clock, and there was now music coming from inside the bear, something classical. "You made this?"

"Uh huh!" Butters said proudly. "I thought we'd try making these, maybe sell them on Craigslist or something."

Kenny nodded. "Yeah…this could work." He turned the panda around again, studying its face. The details in it were simple but amazing. "Butters, I thought you were just cutting up one of the stuffed animals from the bed upstairs. This is really incredible…I can't believe you made this!"

"Oh, I wouldn't do _that_ , Kenny! That'd be like…murder or something."

Kenny laughed. "Okay, yeah, you're right."

Butters took the panda from him and looked at it. "We have to name these something."

Kenny thought for a moment. "How about 'Plush Alarms?'"

"Plush Alarms!" Butters said excitedly. "That's perfect!"

They heard Stan's car pull into their driveway. "Looks like our first day of work is about to start," Kenny said.

Stan and Kyle came in and sat down on the couch together. "So," Stan said, picking up the panda and studying it. "This is what we're going to be making?"

"Yep!" Butters showed them how everything went together. The clock/CD player was secured inside the bear in a wire and cloth harness that Butters had designed. "There's four different animal designs so far, a panda, a bear, a porpoise, and a puppy. The CD player will play in any position. It might skip if you're slamming it against a wall or something—" Butters shook his head and smiled. "Nobody would do that though."

He showed them the supplies they'd be using, boxes of plush material, stuffing, and finally the electronic component; each was in a box labeled 'Clock radio w/CD player and voice chip (4 AA batteries not included)'. He assigned tasks to everyone, and they got to work, Kyle cutting pieces of plush fabric according to the patterns Butters provided, Butters assembling the outside of the animals, Kenny placing the harness and electronics, Stan packing them with stuffing, and then back to Butters again for final stitching plus putting on the little cloth pieces that made up the animals' faces.

They worked until early afternoon, when they had assembled a dozen Plush Alarms. Butters went to get his camera and took several pictures of them, then sat down next to Kenny with his laptop.

"I have the ads ready," he said. "I just have to put in the pictures and post them. Kenny, why don't you call City Wok and get lunch delivered?"

"Sure thing, boss!"

They were breaking open their fortune cookies forty minutes later when Butters checked his computer again. "Let's see if we've sold any of these yet."

"You should wait until tomorrow to check," Kyle said. "Give people a chance to notice them."

Butters almost dropped his cookie. He was staring at his laptop in amazement. "Uh, fellas." He looked like he was having trouble speaking. "We _sold out_. We sold all twelve of them!"

"What?" Kenny said incredulously. They all gathered around Butters' computer as he brought up all the details of the orders that had been placed. All twelve Plush Alarms had been sold; two were being sent to someone in Fairbanks, Alaska, and the other ten were being sent to people all over the country, from California to Maine.

"Wow!" Kyle said incredulously. "People bought all those that quick?"

"Guys," Butters said, doing some quick mental calculations. "This means that even after paying for material, electronics, and shipping…we're earning something like twelve dollars an hour apiece making these things!"

"Jesus Christ," Stan said happily. "My mom's been bugging me to get a job this summer. Wait until I tell her who I'm working for!"

They made six more Plush Alarms that afternoon, and they sold thirty minutes after Butters had posted listings for them. They knew they were on to something big and agreed to get together again tomorrow to continue.

After Stan and Kyle left, Butters told Kenny he wanted to work on something privately and that he should go upstairs and watch television. Kenny was dozing in front of the TV when Butters came into the room a couple hours later.

"Kenny?" He opened his eyes. Butters was standing next to the bed, one hand behind his back. "I made you something." He sat down on the bed, still hiding one hand behind him. "Actually, I made you something to give to Karen. I hope she's not too old for it." He looked shyly at the mattress for a second before handing what he was hiding to Kenny. "Um…here."

Kenny took what Butters was holding out to him and looked at it in amazement. It was a Mysterion plushie, and the details Butters had put into it were incredible, right down to the stitching on the little white underpants outside its costume and the green felt question mark above its head. He had managed to make the scowl on Mysterion's face appear kind. "Butters…this is beautiful!" He held it up, admiring it. "She's going to love this—thank you!" He pulled Butters to him, hugging him.

Butters hugged him back, and then took the Mysterion plushie from him. "You have to record a wake-up message for her," he said, turning the plushie over and pulling open the Velcro tab on its back, exposing the electronics inside. He pointed to a small button next to the digital clock and said, "Just push that button and start talking; you can do a fifteen second message."

Kenny took it from him, thought for a moment, then pushed the button and said in his deepest and best Mysterion voice, gruff and kind at the same time: "It's time to wake up, Karen! And remember…you are never alone!"

"She's going to love this," Kenny repeated after he'd replayed the message he recorded. He pulled Butters down on top of him, kissing him deeply, while the Mysterion plushie looked on silently.

Stan and Kyle came back early the next day, and from then they treated this like a full-time job six days a week, working from Butters' and Kenny's living room from eight in the morning until whatever time they wanted to quit in the afternoon. They went to visit Gerald Broflovski a few days later to take care of all the paperwork to legally operate a business and apply for patents for Butters' designs. This time, Gerald charged them his 'family and friends rate' for his time.

Kenny had never imagined that his life could be so good; they had a tremendous amount of fun working together, and the money rolled in. Three times a week, one of them drove Butter's SUV to the local UPS office to ship out their orders; they were just one of several local businesses who benefited from the unexpected meteoric success of McCormick-Stotch Enterprises.

"This is almost embarrassing," Kenny said to Butters one night about three months later. They were both sitting up in bed, each of them balancing their laptops in front of them. Butters was designing graphics for their website. Kenny had his own bank account now and was logged on to his online statement. In three months, he'd managed to squirrel away almost $4,000, even after he had insisted on starting to pay for half of the groceries and utilities, over Butters' protests. It was the closest they had ever come to having an argument, but Kenny wouldn't back down and Butters finally relented.

"What's that Kenny?" Butters leaned over to see what Kenny was doing. "Oh! Hah, yeah!"

"Making this kind of money, doing something that's _fun_ …alongside three of the best people in the world. _That's_ embarrassing. "

Butters reached up, grabbed the back of Kenny's head and pulled him into a kiss. "We did it, Kenny!" Butters said, their lips tingling pleasantly after separating long moments later. "We found a way to pay our bills, and have fun doing it. That's what life is supposed to be all about."

0-0-0-0-0

A few months later, their neighborhood was terrorized by a series of home invasion style break-ins. Six houses not far from them were broken into in a three-week period in the early morning hours; in four of those the residents were lucky to sleep through their homes being robbed; the other two resulted in homeowners being savagely beaten when attempting to confront the burglar.

Kenny installed extra locks on each of their doors and took to sleeping with a baseball bat leaning against the wall next to him. He was deeply asleep one night when he felt himself being shaken awake and heard Butters' frightened voice in his ear:

"Kenny! There's something happening downstairs!" They both heard the sound of breaking glass, possibly from the kitchen.

Kenny was awake and on his feet instantly. "Call 9-1-1!" he said, grabbing the bat. "And stay up here until I tell you it's safe!" He put on his robe and hurried out the door, closing it behind him and ran down the stairs three at a time. He hurried into their kitchen just in time to see someone in all black wearing a ski mask and gloves, half in and half out of their broken kitchen window. There was broken glass all over the counter and floor, and cold air was blowing in. Kenny saw the eyes peering through the slit in the ski mask widen as they saw him approaching, raising the bat. The intruder started to retreat back out the window, and Kenny saw he would have time to get away…so he threw the bat overhand and managed to nail the intruder square in the forehead with the wide end.

"Oww… _fuck_!" The baseball bat clattered off the counter and fell to the floor. Kenny ran to grab it, and the intruder tumbled backward out the window; Kenny heard him hit the ground outside and start moaning. He ran to the window and looked out just in time to see whoever he had hit with the bat climb to his feet and stagger off, clutching his forehead with both hands. There was fresh blood on the snow outside. Kenny realized he couldn't go out the window after him without cutting himself on the broken glass.

"Hold it!" he shouted out the window. He grabbed the bat off the floor and, almost as an afterthought, the roll of paper towels from the wall and ran out into the garage. By the time he got outside, there was no sign of the intruder. " _Asshole_!" Kenny shouted at the darkness in frustration. He went back into the house locking both doors behind him, past the broken glass in the kitchen and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, still holding the bat. "Butters!" he called, "it's okay now. Come on out."

The bedroom door opened upstairs and Butters stepped into the hallway. "Th-they're gone?" He had put his bathrobe on.

"Well, _he_ is, anyway. Come on down. Did you call 9-1-1?"

Butters ran down the stairs into Kenny's arms. "Yeah…the police are on their way." He was trembling with fear and Kenny hugged him. "Are you okay?" Butters asked, pressing his face into Kenny's neck.

"Yeah. Shaken up…but I'm all right. Come see this." Kenny led Butters into their kitchen where he gasped at the sight of the broken window and the glass all over the floor and counter. "We shouldn't touch this until the cops leave, and I'll get something over that window to keep the heat in. I hope they don't send that moron Barbrady." Kenny told him about his encounter, and Butters smiled when Kenny told him about the lucky throw he had made with the bat.

A police car arrived three minutes later, flashing blue lights strobe lighting the neighborhood. They showed the two officers (neither of them Barbrady) the kitchen, and Kenny gave them a rundown on what had happened. When one of them asked if the intruder had said anything, Kenny replied, "Just 'aww, fuck' when I nailed him in the head with the bat. I didn't recognize the voice."

Both officers chuckled at that; they probably knew (or had been told) that Kenny and Butters carried more than average clout in South Park with their successful business and they should be treated accordingly. "You should have thrown it a lot harder," one of them said and Kenny and Butters laughed, a lot of the tension in the air dissipating with that remark.

Butters started cleaning up the broken glass once the two officers were finishing up. "We'll notify the area hospitals to be watching for anyone coming in with a suspicious head injury or serious cuts," one of them told Kenny outside as they were climbing back into their cruiser. This was one of those times Kenny really missed smoking. "Lock your doors when we leave, and you should get that window boarded up tonight."

Kenny assured him that he would and went back inside. Butters had the broken glass cleaned up from the counter and was starting to sweep what was on the floor into a pile. Kenny picked up the dustpan and started picking up the larger pieces off the floor and dropping them into the trash can Butters had moved from its spot in the corner. In a few minutes they had all the broken glass cleaned up, and Butters leaned up against Kenny, wrapping his arms around him. He was still trembling.

"You okay, hon?" Kenny had never called him that before. He hoped Butters found it comforting.

"Yeah…I think so." He pressed his face into his favorite part of Kenny's throat and kissed it. "This is fucked up, though. Someone tried to _break into our house_." Usually Butters only swore for the comedic effect; this time he did it because he was deadly serious.

"I know. I'll get that window boarded up. They won't be coming back here. Heh, they _sure_ won't be coming back here tonight; that's a lot of blood on the ground outside." He felt Butters smile against his neck. Kenny went out to the garage and found a couple suitable scraps of plywood and covered the broken window.

The next day, after what he thought was a lot of consideration, Kenny borrowed the SUV to 'run an errand.' He wasn't quite sure what to expect when he arrived at his destination, but it wasn't long before he was glad he had come. Stan's Uncle Jimbo's house was on the outskirts of town, and sort of resembled the compound he and Ned tried to make it look like. They were both sitting on the front porch as Kenny drove up. Jimbo was cleaning a rifle and Ned was sitting in a chair next to him drinking a beer. Kenny grabbed the gift he had brought them (a twelve-pack of Pabst he had bought from his mom on his way over here) and climbed out.

"Hey Kenny!" Jimbo carefully leaned the rifle he was working on against the wall and stood up to shake his hand. "Long time no see!"

"Heya Jimbo!" Kenny had to switch the twelve-pack to his right hand to shake Ned's left one a moment later. "Hey, Ned!" Ned held his Electrolarynx to his throat.

" ** _Mmmm-hey Kenny_** ," Ned said with his electronic voice.

"So! Is this just a social call, Ken, or is there something we can do for you?" Jimbo asked, taking Kenny gift and removing two beers for himself and Ned. He offered Kenny one, but he shook his head.

"No, thanks. I'm driving." Kenny grinned. "And let's say it's a social call _and_ there's something you maybe can do for me." He told them about the break in at their house last night, all the while wondering what they thought about him living with Butters. Jimbo and Ned's own relationship was the source of a few rumors; Kenny was pretty sure they were a couple, and if so it was one of South Park's more interesting secrets. He finished with: "So I was thinking of getting a small handgun just for defense, and thought about you guys. I've handled guns before, in case you wondered, and I'd like to avoid all that registration and waiting period bullshit."

Jimbo and Ned looked at each other and nodded. Ned held his device to his throat: " ** _Mmm-show him the .38_**."

"Good choice, Ned! Come on inside, Kenny." Jimbo patted Kenny's shoulder as they went into the house. Jimbo led him through a living room with trophies mounted on every wall into their den, a small hole in the wall room with a big TV, a well-stocked bar, and a large arsenal displayed on wall racks and wooden cases with glass fronts. Jimbo had Kenny sit at the bar and produced a small handgun from a gun safe, setting it on the bar. "Kenny, that there is a Glock 38. It'd be perfect for what you need!"

Kenny carefully picked it up. "Is it…?"

"No! It's not loaded." Kenny turned it over in his hands, examining it. He nodded. "How much for this and a box of shells for it…and can I do some target practice in your backyard?"

"You bet you can, Kenny!" Jimbo named a price and Kenny readily paid him in cash. They went out into the backyard, where Ned and Jimbo had several acres of land with nothing but snowcapped mountains behind it. Jimbo showed Kenny everything he needed to know about the gun, and Kenny took several practice shots at one of the many targets that were set up, managing to hit close to the bullseye every time.

"If you're ever going to use that on someone, it'll probably be at close range," Jimbo said as Kenny was walking back to the SUV. "It's perfect for home protection."

"Yeah. Thanks, guys!" He shook their hands, again using his left hand to shake Ned's, then drove home. He kept the gun hidden for several days until Butters was out running errands, then retrieved the gun, made sure it was unloaded, and brought it to the walk-in closet in their bedroom. He cleared an area on the highest shelf on his side of the closet. He had tossed several of his oldest parkas up here, and used one to cover the gun and box of shells after wrapping them both in a towel. Butters would have no reason to ever look in here, and Kenny could get to it in seconds from the bed if anything like what happened last night ever happened again.

As it turned out, the last home invasion in their neighborhood was the one that happened at their house. No one was ever apprehended; they simply stopped.

0-0-0-0-0

A few months before their second anniversary, Kenny took a phone call that was life changing. A major toy retailer wanted to sell the Plush Alarm line in their stores, and since Butters and Kenny had the design patent nailed down on them, the retailer had no choice but to purchase them from McCormick-Stotch Enterprises. This called for much greater production than the four of them alone could handle, so Butters leased warehouse space in the business park area, and eventually had 25 people working for them. Kenny's mother got a job there and managed to stay sober enough to become supervisor of the material cutting crew.

After this arrangement had taken off, the money rolled in, embarrassing amounts of it. McCormick-Stotch Enterprises became one of the largest employers in South Park.

"We could retire," Butters had said once when they were getting ready for bed. "You know…sell the business? But…I'm having too much fun!"

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny flipped on the black light again, thinking that it was probably three years ago at this exact moment that he had woke up in his bed, back from the dead for the last time. When he turned the light off a moment later and rolled over on his back, he realized Butters was awake and looking at him.

"Hey Kenny," Butters said sleepily, blinking. Kenny rolled over to nuzzle his neck. "Have you been awake a long time?"

"Not really." Kenny realized that was a lie. "Well…yeah, actually. I have been." He loved how Butters smelled in the morning, a combination of his sweat and the fabric softener they used on their sheets.

"Aww." Butters wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry you couldn't sleep."

"It's okay. I was just thinking: How did three years go by, just like that?"

"Time flies when you're having fun Kenny." He could hear the smile in Butters' voice. "We've just been having a lot of fun I guess."

"We sure have been." Kenny moved closer against him, until he was pressing his belly against Butters' boxers and could feel his morning wood. "Speaking of fun…"

Butters' hands were already reaching behind Kenny to grab the back of his shirt. They pulled each other's clothes off and made love, Kenny turning on the black light as Butters was reaching for lube. It was already starting to get light outside their window.

0-0-0-0-0

Their day got off to a similar start the morning of their third anniversary, only this time the lovemaking was much more prolonged and intense, and when they had both come together, Butters had laid on top of Kenny, burying his face in the crook of his neck while Kenny's fingers ran up and down his spine.

"You know one of the reasons I love you so much?" Kenny said. "This is reason 647: Because no matter what we're doing…whether it's this—" he ran his hand over Butter's ass to indicate what 'this' was—"or cooking a meal, or going over a contract, it's always more fun when I'm doing it with you."

"Aww," Butters blinked, deeply touched. He raised his head to look at Kenny. "Thank you! I love you too." He put his face back against Kenny's neck.

Stan and Kyle showed up at the usual time bearing gifts, a card, and a large plate of sandwiches Kyle had made for the party later. They quit work before noon, had City Wok take out delivered, and after lunch Butters said he needed to go to the store for a few more things for tonight. Kenny and Stan walked out to his SUV with him, Kenny lingering to kiss him through the passenger window. Butters finally smiled and started the vehicle.

Kenny and Stan started to walk back into the house, but turned around when they heard a horrendous metal-on-metal grinding sound. Kenny saw it was coming from behind the front tire of the SUV. Butters had stopped, and when he tried backing up again, that same grinding noise happened again. He shook his head at Kenny and pulled the truck forward into the driveway again, the noise from the SUV only quieting when he had completely stopped.

"There's something wrong with the car, Kenny," Butters said, climbing out.

"I'll say there is. You're not going anywhere in that until it's fixed." Kenny leaned down to inspect the front left tire, and for a moment he couldn't understand why the truck breaking this way had suddenly given him a distinctly uneasy feeling. He figured it out a moment later.

Kenny had smelled every odor a broken down vehicle can make, from the sour tang of an overheated radiator, to burning oil and overheated brake pads. He suspected a front wheel bearing was giving out on their SUV, and that sometimes smelled like hot metal. The odor coming from behind the tire was like nothing he'd ever encountered coming from a car before: It was the smell of sulfur, and it filled Kenny with a sense of dread.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone actually invents the Plush Alarm, I would like a share of the royalties please :-)
> 
> I should mention: The next few chapters are very sad. Possible trigger warnings ahead.


	12. Happy Anniversary, Butters

Kenny backed away from their SUV as if it was a bomb about to explode, not sure why he was suddenly so frightened. Something about the truck had made him want to grab Butters and drag him away from it. Now, he couldn't figure out why he was so freaked out, and wondered if this is what having a panic attack feels like. If so, he had no idea what had triggered it. Aside from the annoyance of having to get the truck fixed, nothing else seemed amiss. It had broken down in just about the best possible place, no one was inconvenienced or stranded, and most importantly, Butters was safe.

"Geez, Kenny, are you all right?" Stan asked, walking over to stand beside him. "You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

Kenny nodded, only now remembering to breathe again and still confused about what had just happened. "Yeah, I'm good." He walked over to Butters, still eying the truck nervously. "I'm just glad this happened right here, instead of twenty miles away…or when you were driving down the highway."

Kyle came outside to join them, having heard the noise from inside the house. "That sucks, dude. I guess we can take you to the store if there was anything you really needed…?"

"Nothing I can't live without," Butters replied and Kenny flinched, not sure why that comment troubled him either. He pulled out his cell phone.

"Let's get this taken care of. If I know my mechanics, we might be able to get the truck fixed in time to take it to the store later anyway." He punched in Clyde's work number from memory. It had been a while since they had talked.

Clyde must have looked at his caller ID before answering: "Hey, asshole!"

"Hey, shithead. How've you been?"

"Not too bad…and what's the deal, Kenny?" Clyde asked. "You settle down, and now you don't come around on Friday nights anymore?"

"I'm walking the straight and narrow path now, Mr. Donovan. Businessman and all that shit. And speaking of the straight and narrow, you're coming to our party tonight, right?"

"You're the third person who's told me I should. So I guess I am. Is that why you called?"

"That, and our truck just broke down right here at the house; I think it's a front wheel bearing. I dunno how busy you guys are, but is there any way you can tow it in today?"

"Shit Kenny, we're just sitting around keeping our thumbs warm. I was about to start sending people home. I can be there in fifteen minutes to tow it in, and if it's a wheel bearing I can have it fixed so you can pick it up this afternoon."

"That'd be great, Clyde, thanks. Do you remember where we live?"

"Butters' house? Of course. I'll see you soon."

Kenny closed his phone and looked at the others. "Well, that's taken care of. He says he'll be here in no time." Butters leaned against the front fender and Kenny went over to stand next to him. The four of them gathered around the vehicle to wait.

Clyde arrived ten minutes later, driving a tow truck with Donovan & Reilly Automotive painted on the doors. He climbed out and shook Kenny's hand: "Hey Kenny!"

Stan laughed. "Nice shirt, Clyde."

Clyde looked down, forgetting which tee shirt he'd worn. It was his black 'Nuke Stonehenge' one; a bright orange mushroom cloud towered behind the iconic stone monoliths. He looked up and smiled. "Yeah it's one of my favorites. It pisses off hippies worse than my 'nuke the whale' one." He shook everyone else's hands. "It's good to see you guys again, it's been awhile…and happy anniversary." The last was to Kenny and Butters. He got to work hooking up the SUV to the tow truck. As he was leaving he asked: "So, Bebe told me about 8:00 tonight?"

"Or whenever," Butters replied. He patted Kenny on the back. "We'll be here all night."

"All right." Clyde looked at his watch and said to Kenny: "We should have this done by three; I'll text you." He drove off, the SUV bouncing along behind the tow truck.

"Well, that was pretty easy," Butters said, taking Kenny's hand as they walked back toward the house.

Stan replied, "Piece of cake. Once he calls later, we'll give Kenny a ride to get your truck, and we can stop at the store on our way home for anything else you need."

"We have a few hours to kill in the meantime," Kyle said. "Let's go and play videogames until our eyes bleed."

They went inside. Butters made a huge cheese and crackers plate and they went into the living room to play Nintendo Wii. After a couple of hours, Stan and Kenny became embroiled in a raucous game of 'Battleship.' Kyle and Butters ended up working side by side on one of Butters' current craft projects. He had spun and kiln-fired three small clay flowerpots in their basement, and had piled dozens of pieces of jute twine that he had cut into precise 36-inch lengths onto the living room table. He and Kyle were taking six of these pieces of twine and braiding them together to make thicker cables to turn the clay pots into hanging baskets to grow herbs in the kitchen window.

Kyle looked up grinning when Stan jokingly accused Kenny of cheating.

"You can't cheat in Wii Battleship, Stanley," Kenny said, laughing. "It's not like the board game, where you can move your ships around after you start playing." His phone buzzed, and while Stan fired another miss, he picked it up to read his message:

_From: C. Donovan - Your trucks done._

"Truck's ready," Kenny said, firing a shot that sank Stan's Battleship _Missouri_.

"You better start walking then," Stan said laughing and dropping his controller on the couch. He stood up and pulled his keys out of his pocket.

"Let's get this over with," Kenny said, standing up. Butters jumped up and dashed out of the room, returning a moment later hiding something behind his back. He sat back down on the couch. Stan and Kyle were putting their coats on, and Butters reached up to grab Kenny's hand, stopping him from leaving.

"Hold your horses, mister. You have to stay here for a minute."

Kenny smiled; Stan and Kyle gathered up the remnants of their snacks and drinks and carried them out of the room.

While Stan and Kyle were in the kitchen, Butters pulled Kenny back down onto the sofa next to him. Butters said, "Before you go, Kenny…I want to give you this now." He reached behind him and pulled out what he'd been hiding. It was their anniversary card. Butters looked at him, smiling happily. "Happy anniversary, Kenny. I…God, I love you." He handed Kenny the card and hugged him.

"Aw…I've been looking forward to this all year." They cuddled up together, and Kenny opened the card and quickly read over the parts he already knew by heart. He came to this year's message and paused; Butters had written it in tiny handwriting, so small that Kenny had to hold the card up next to his face to read it:

_Year three: If I'm going to keep giving you this card every year for the next sixty years, I'm going to have to start writing a lot smaller, or there won't be any room left on it._

_I love you, Kenny!!!!!! My life is so good now. All that bad stuff I went through when I was little was all worth it because it led you to me. I have so much more I want to say, but I'm crying too hard to finish writing everything I meant to, but oh hamburgers Ken dear God I love you, and I'll write something better next year, I promise._

_Yours for all time,_

_Butters_

Kenny stared at the tiny words on the card, reading them over and over again while the tears in his eyes blurred them, memorizing every word, every pen stroke. He felt Butters' fingers on his wrist a moment later and looked up at him, his tears spilling past his eyelids and down his cheeks.

They hugged each other, the card open on Kenny's lap. "Happy anniversary, Butters," he whispered, pressing his lips to Butter's jaw. "I love this card. But nowhere near as much as I love you." Kenny reached around Butters' neck to wipe a tear from his cheek and glanced up as Stan appeared in the kitchen doorway and stopped. Their eyes met. Kyle stopped behind him a moment later.

"Dude, no." Stan said, turning around and herding Kyle back into the kitchen.

Kenny put his face back against Butter's neck. Butters whispered, a little smile in his voice, "Sorry it wasn't more eloquent this year."

"It was perfect." Kenny kissed his cheek and repeated: "I love you." They moved away, each reaching up to wipe each other's cheeks. Kenny made a mental note to thank Stan for what he had done a moment ago.

Butters smiled happily, wiping the last of the moisture from Kenny's face. "Go get the truck, Kenny. I'll get dinner started before you get back."

Kenny nodded, and called in to the kitchen. "Hey, you guys ready to go?"

Stan and Kyle came in together several seconds later. Kenny's eyes met Stan's again, and this time Stan tipped him a wink. Kenny nodded gratefully.

"I'll see you in an hour," Kenny said as he hugged Butters by the front door. He gave Butters their card back and kissed him, lingering a moment to suck his bottom lip. "Take care of this while I'm gone. Happy anniversary, baby."

Butters' eyes were beaming happily as he stretched up to give Kenny another kiss. "I love you." They stared at each other for a long moment, then Butters watched the three of them walk off and get into Stan's car. He stood there until the car had backed out of the driveway and driven out of sight.

0-0-0-0-0

"There's no reason your wheel bearings went out like that," Clyde said. He and Kenny were standing by the SUV; Stan and Kyle were in the car, waiting to follow Kenny home. "This rig's way too new. You should complain to the dealer." He picked up a small cardboard box and handed it to Kenny. "Take that with you when you do. It's what I took off your truck, and it's cheap bullshit. I replaced it with much better parts."

"Thanks, Clyde, we will…and I'm good to go now, right?" Kenny replied.

"Yeah, you're all set. I even filled up your gas tank for you, so happy anniversary from Donovan and Reilly Service. So I guess I'll see you tonight?"

"You better stop by." He shook Clyde's hand. "Thanks again for getting me out of here so quick." He climbed in, started the engine and drove forward, waving to Stan and Kyle as he drove past them and turned onto the side street and took the lead position at the traffic light, waiting for a green arrow to make a left turn. He looked in his mirror and saw Stan's car pull up behind him. He watched the cross traffic going through the intersection at 40 miles an hour, and when he saw their light change from green to amber, he gripped his hands tighter to the wheel, preparing to turn left on the still icy road.

Christine Chambers, 33, homemaker and mother of two, should have known better than to be texting while driving. But she had just come from the grocery store and forgotten to buy milk, her in-laws were due in an hour and the house was a mess…so she fired off a quick message to her husband: _forgot milk, can u pick some up?_ She stared at it for a moment before sending it, and when she finally did, she looked up just in time to see the red traffic light pass overhead as she flew through an intersection directly into the side of an SUV.

Stan's eyes widened in horror as a car shot through the red light going at least 35 miles an hour and broadsided Butters' vehicle on the driver's side, pulverizing it in an explosion of glass and twisted metal. The SUV was knocked sideways on the icy road and crashed with its passenger side into the line of vehicles on the right waiting at the red light. One of these was a pickup truck with the Park County Maintenance Department, carrying snow blowers, chain saws, and several five gallon red plastic jugs filled with gasoline, which were launched backward by the impact, splitting open and spilling their contents when they hit the ground behind the truck.

Stan slammed on his brakes, throwing them against the seatbelts. " _Kenny!"_ Kyle screamed, throwing off his belt and leaping from the car, unmindful of his own safety.

"Kyle— _Christ!_ " Stan threw his car into park and leapt out after him. Two other vehicles that had been coming from the other direction skidded trying to avoid the still-unfolding accident, one of them narrowly missing Kyle, who suddenly stopped short as he recognized the danger he was in. Stan ran past him, toward the wrecked SUV.

Somehow, the spilled gasoline found a spark and ignited with a sudden flash of heat and light and a dull _whumph!_ that they felt as well as heard. Stan and Kyle threw their arms over their faces at the sudden rush of superheated air. The fire spread quickly, engulfing the pickup truck and spreading toward Butters' SUV. There was no sign of Kenny inside it; he had probably been knocked unconscious or worse from the impact.

People were scattering from the growing inferno. Stan saw several people in Park County uniforms and scanned them desperately, hoping that Kenny had somehow gotten out through the passenger side. He didn't see him anywhere. Kyle was tugging at his arm, pulling him toward the burning SUV. They began running toward it together; then its freshly-filled fuel tank exploded, sending an oily fireball rolling skyward. The blast knocked them both to the ground, and they stared in horror as pieces of metal and glass rained down near them; now they _could_ see Kenny inside, and just before flames completely engulfed the vehicle, they could see him beating at the inside of the door with his fists. It looked like his head was on fire.

" _Oh, Kenny, NO!_ " Kyle wailed, his vision going black, but the awful popping and crackling sounds of the fire still getting through. One of the tires exploded, sending burning pieces of rubber skittering along the ground around them. He was barely aware of Stan putting his arm around him, trying to urge him to get up. Kyle didn't have the strength to move, so Stan sat down hard next to him and held him while Butters' SUV burned with Kenny inside, sending lazy gray clouds of smoke billowing into the sky. They could hear the first sirens off in the distance, getting closer.

Someone finally had the presence of mind to try running up and dousing the burning SUV with a fire extinguisher, but by then it was too late: The vehicle had been reduced to a smoldering pyre.

Kyle finally tore his eyes away from the horror in front of him to meet Stan's. Stan looked back at him with a thousand yard stare. They both knew they were thinking about the same thing:

Butters.


	13. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of Satan in this story is much more cruel and evil than the one in the show and movie.

_Against boredom, the gods themselves struggle in vain—Friedrich Nietzsche_

 

Kenny opened his eyes and thought everything was going to be okay. He couldn't move, he couldn't hear, but his eyes were open, which was usually the first thing after his lungs to start working again when he returned from the dead. Soon, sensation and movement would come back as his new body finished making itself, all the neural connections putting themselves together again.

He was lying face down, staring at the familiar dark blue fabric of their couch; he'd never awoken here before (usually he awoke in bed in his old bedroom), but he hadn't died since moving in with Butters, so he assumed he had a different drop off point for his new body now. There was no doubt it was their couch though. The color was unmistakable, and the faint odor of the Febreze fabric freshener that Butters misted everything with a couple times a month to keep everything smelling fresh tickled his nose. _That's two down; sight and smell._ Kenny tried turning his head, but it was too soon for that.

It appeared that he'd skipped right over the usual day or two in hell and gone right back to his life again. Someone (God?) must be favoring him, letting this death pass without hurting any of his loved ones this time. The fact that he had no one's (forgotten) memories to look through to tell him what had happened while he was gone seemed to confirm this. He was grateful; that had been a particularly horrific death. Just before the flames engulfed him and the agony of burning to death put an end to all rational thought, he had seen Stan and Kyle trying to get to him, and either of their memories, not only of the collision and fire but of having to help Butters get through it would have been devastating.

He assumed the SUV was parked in the driveway unharmed, and Butters was in another part of the house while Kenny finished returning. Either that, or he was out running errands with it.

He began to notice things that didn't add up though, and felt himself wanting to slip into a blissful state of denial. For one thing, the light wasn't right. No matter what time of day it was, there was no reason for the light and shadows on the dark blue fabric his cheek was pressed against to be flickering. And their living room always smelled either fresh from whatever Air Wick candle Butters had lit, or was filled with the smells of whatever he was cooking or baking. This air smelled like hot metal, and it was much too warm.

Kenny's heart clenched with fear, and he felt a cramp in his neck. He was suddenly terrified, because something was clearly not right. There's only one place that has that familiar scorched iron smell. He managed to turn his head to see where else he was besides lying on these familiar cushions.

He was on their couch, but he wasn't in their living room. This was some part of hell Kenny had never seen before. It was a cave no bigger than their bedroom; its entrance had been closed off with a rough stone wall. A large and ornate iron door was the wall's only distinctive feature. Torches on either side of it provided the only light.

He remembered what had happened the last time he had been in hell: It seemed that someone wanted him to stay here that time, but his two best friends had been given a message with a way to save him that they deciphered and returned him to life. He realized that he was perhaps about to begin paying for whatever had happened last time, and feared that Butters was going to be made to suffer more somehow as a result as well.

Just turning his head had been an effort, but he forced himself to sit up, fighting nausea. _If I puke, do it on the floor, not on our couch._ It only now occurred to him to wonder why the fuck it was here in the first place. He knew that he was the first person ever to occupy this chamber, and that it had been prepared especially for him. Why else would their goddam _sofa_ be here?

Kenny spat several times on the stones between his boots, and the nausea gradually passed. He felt the numbness leaving his body, flowing down his chest and back, then his legs, as if cold water was draining from him through his feet. As soon as he thought he could do it without falling over, he stood up and staggered over to the door, sagging against it for support and banging his fist against it. It was so thick he knew no one on the other side would hear.

"Hey!" He tried to shout. His voice came out as a croak and he hit the door again. "Open up!" He kicked the door with his boot and only managed to hurt his toes. He kicked it again anyway, and this time something happened. The door slowly swung toward him, only an inch or so, then stopped. He sensed there was someone on the other side of the door trying to push it open. Satan could have opened it with one finger; whoever was out there was having trouble with it. Kenny dug his fingertips into the edge of the door, hoping it didn't close again and crush them, and pulled. The door opened and Kenny looked out.

The first thing he saw was the main valley of hell, an enormous smoke filled crater ringed with mountains, many of them active volcanos. Ten Grand Canyons would easily fit inside it. The room he was in had been carved high up on the side of one of the tallest mountains. The screams of over a billion people below barely registered with him anymore. Kenny took one step outside, and the heat and sulfur fumes hit him at once. Jesus Christ was standing there, and he raised his hand in greeting.

"Hello, my child."

"You!" Kenny said angrily, ducking back into the room to escape the intense heat. "What are _you_ doing here? Don't tell me _you_ have something to do with this?

"No Kenny," Jesus said, following him inside and closing the door. "Satan killed you at Cthulhu's bidding this time as well." He looked around curiously at the cave they were in. "You've already figured out that they have special plans for you this time." Jesus put his hand on Kenny's arm, leading him back to the couch. "My father decided to interfere."

"Oh," Kenny moaned, sitting down again and closing his eyes. "Jesus, I'm so sick of this. Please…can I just go back before Butters learns I died? He wasn't there…there might still be time. This is going to be too much for him."

Kenny had never seen Jesus look so remorseful. "No, my son."

Kenny could barely whisper the question: "No?"

"Kenny, Cthulhu had you brought here because he has decided to move on to someone else to torment with endless deaths and rebirths. He's decided your usefulness is over. There are things I can't tell you until Satan has joined us, but one thing I can say: However this turns out, part of what is going to happen is that you will return to life for one last time, and you will have no memories of ever having died before. You won't even remember this conversation."

Kenny thought that didn't sound so bad. But…. "But…there's more, isn't there?"

Jesus nodded sadly. "My son, Satan and Cthulhu were furious when you left here three years ago. Your friends ruined plans that had been in the making for quite some time. They've brought you here this time to avenge that. I can't tell you more than this yet…but Kenny, you must prepare yourself for the worst."

"Why…?" Kenny was shaking his head, overwhelmed with dread and hopelessness. "Why are they doing this?"

"Cthulhu feeds on human pain and suffering, Kenny. It's why there's been so many natural disasters and violent crimes lately. Human suffering is like food to him. And sometimes the suffering of one is as nourishing as the suffering of a thousand."

" _My_ suffering." Kenny was barely managing not to break down.

"Yes, Kenny. And Leopold's."

Kenny asked, even though the answer terrified him: "What's going to happen to him?"

Jesus bowed his head sadly. "I…can't answer that until Satan has joined us. But there are things I have to tell you now. I know you've noticed that you've never seen Leopold's memories before. There's a reason for that. He has forgotten memories of you, too, things that he can't recall himself…but that you might be able to remember if you were ever inside his head. Things that Satan didn't want you to know about…until now."

Kenny shuddered. "What sort of things?"

"Kenny…your friends and family weren't the only ones who've had memories changed or erased. Sometimes… _your_ memories were altered too, to create the life you once had."

Kenny bowed his head. Much of his life had been a lie?

"You've suspected before that the pain of your repeated deaths have left some sort of impression on those who love you, even when they can't remember the deaths themselves. You were right about that; those closest to you subconsciously fear losing you, because of all the times it's happened before, even though they don't remember. It's one of the reasons your friends love you so much."

Kenny looked up again, wishing he was back home, back to his life with Butters. The idea that he never would be again was starting to sink in.

"There's also another side to this, and this is what you don't remember. You have performed acts of kindness in the past that have left behind a different sort of impression on someone. That night you rescued Leopold from the dog house…that is not the first time you've saved him from a place like that. Satan didn't want you to recall those other times, so he took away your memories of them and never showed you the inside of Leopold's mind before. And this final time, Cthulhu gave you that wonderful life you had together, because of how much it will hurt when it's all taken away."

Kenny lost it, wrapping his arms around his folded knees and burying his face, crying.

"And because of those other times, Leopold had subconsciously begun to think of you as the one thing in his life that represented safety, goodness…love…" He put his hand on Kenny's quaking shoulders. "I'm sorry, my son."

The cast iron door swung open and Satan stepped in, ducking his head to clear the top of the door. "Did you tell him yet?" he asked angrily, rising up to his full height. Kenny looked up at him for a moment with tears in his eyes, then buried his face again.

"No Satan," Jesus replied. "I told you I wouldn't."

"Then tell him now!" Satan knelt on the floor in front of Kenny, which meant he still towered over him. He looked very satisfied. The black hair of his goatee was matted with blood, and there were what looked like shreds of either flesh or viscera in his horns. Satan had been feasting on someone, and it looked like his dessert was to watch Kenny being told about whatever they had planned. Kenny knew it was going to be something unbearable.

"My son," Jesus said gently. "It comes down to one thing. Leopold is not going to be able to endure the pain of losing you, and the only thing he is going to want is to put an end to that pain." He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Kenny, but unless he is stopped, he _will_ kill himself. Cthulhu's final torment is to return you to your life, two seconds before he pulls the trigger, with all your memories of your previous deaths erased. Just in time for you to hear it happen."

"Yeah!" Satan rumbled, sounding almost like he was having an orgasm. "And he won't be like some emo chick swallowing six baby aspirin looking for attention. He's going to put the whole barrel of the gun in his mouth…and then you'll spend the rest of your short miserable life wondering why he did it…because, after all, he seemed so happy!" Satan laughed uproariously.

Kenny was shaking his head, not pleading with them, but in simple negation. Butters couldn't…kill himself. He just couldn't. He tore his eyes from Satan and looked at Jesus. "He doesn't know about the gun," he said, horrified. "I hid it! I never told him-!"

"You're a fool, Kenny!" Satan said. "You really thought you could hide a gun in your bedroom closet without it ever being found?"

Kenny felt something twist deep inside his head, some dark chamber opening up to let in daylight and reason for the first time. Of course Butters would have found the gun eventually. His obsession with keeping things clean and dusted would have led him to it sooner or later. Kenny realized there were other places he could have hidden it where he could have gotten to it just as easily, but Butters never would have looked. It was as if common sense had left him that moment he put it on the top shelf of the closet.

"You're getting it now, aren't you Kenny?" Satan went on. "In fact…hasn't the last three years of your life been just a little _too_ perfect?" Kenny felt a knife digging in his brain, gouging at the gray matter. "Kenny, would any lawyer risk his entire career for a piece of white trash like you on _legal blackmail,_ just so you could have a house and a wonderful life with your boyfriend?"

Kenny stared at him in horror, as the perfection of the last three years of his life started to come unglued before his eyes. The last three years of his life had all been contrived, just so it could be taken away?

"What couple never once argues in three years, Kenny?" Satan said, his voice rising happily as he witnessed Kenny's misery. That knife was now an icepick deep behind Kenny's eyes. Satan suddenly laughed hysterically, slamming his huge hand against his knee. "Oh, here's a good one! Leo's parents went back to their _native Hawaii?_ Does he look like _any_ native of Hawaii you've ever seen?"

Satan doubled over with mirth, and the icepick was withdrawn from Kenny's skull, leaving him with a feeling of having been torn open. Kenny was seeing just how much of his life had been a deception. How he'd ever thought blond haired light skinned Butters could be a native Hawaiian was a wonder to him.

"Our love was real," Kenny said defiantly, turning from Satan to Jesus.

"None of that matters anymore," Satan replied. "We have other things to move onto now…like you learning a few things about Leo, such as how he found the gun." Satan smiled wickedly. "How about some nice memories, Kenny?"

Kenny sensed movement behind him and turned in time to see Satan reaching to lay his hands on his head. Kenny didn't want this, it would be too painful, and he tried to get away, only to feel the ultimate betrayal: Jesus, grabbing his shoulders and holding him down. Kenny's terrified eyes locked on Jesus as Satan lay his burning hot hands on Kenny's scalp. A brilliant light exploded in his head.

It wasn't just one memory Kenny saw. He saw in a single mad rush everything that was inside Butters' mind, everything ready to be recalled and viewed as easily as Kenny's own memories. They came at him in the order they had happened, beginning with the sad and lonely early years, wanting daddy to be proud of him, but nothing he ever did was good enough. Stephen Stotch seemed to take sadistic delight in crushing his son's spirits by belittling his every effort. _What is this minus sign doing next to this A, mister?_ became a common refrain. He had once considered adding a tiny pen stroke to make a minus into a plus, and couldn't bring himself to do it.

An unbidden memory surfaced: Butters, face down on his bed, pajama pants around his knees, his crying ratcheting up to a shrill scream as daddy's hand slipped and he swung the belt awkwardly, the buckle slashing down over the tender flesh of his left thigh. Butters, doing the unthinkable now, _running away from daddy_ , his hands pressed to the fire on his thigh until he tripped over his pants, daddy coming after him with the belt until he saw the blood between his son's fingers.

Butters, on the floor sobbing while daddy pressed a handkerchief to the blood, saying, "that's enough for now, Butters. Let's not tell mommy about this. This'll be our secret, okay?" This memory, while powerful, was overshadowed by something better, shining and good: Kenny's lips, pressing tender kisses years later to the scar that had been left that night, promising him no one would ever hurt him again. When Butters had whispered the words "belt buckle" it had felt like going to confession. It allowed him to face that memory years later without feeling the pain of that night.

Kenny found quick flashes of other sad times, dozens of them, groundings and terrifying nights of being locked in the basement with the lights off, and each one of these no longer hurt when Butters thought of them, because of Kenny. All the sadness of those early days was something Butters was no longer haunted by, because Kenny loved him, and he _knew_ Kenny loved him, completely and unconditionally, silly fears and nervous habits and all.

Kenny looked for and found the memory of the day he had carelessly thrown a ninja star at Butters. They'd all been so caught up in the excitement of the moment that he had been careless and flung the razor sharp weapon at Professor Chaos…and came within an inch of taking out Butters' left eye. Kenny felt his heart wrench as the pain and terror of that moment came rushing back. Worst of all though was the feeling of betrayal, that it was _Kenny_ who had done this to him. Even then, Butters had loved him and Kenny scrubbed at the fresh tears that suddenly drenched his cheeks.

Then, another memory: Butters, home in bed in the days after the accident, staying home from school while he recovered, a large bulky dressing covering most of the left side of his face. Kenny visited him every day after school, climbing the tree outside his window and knocking while daddy was at work and mommy was watching soap operas. Every day, Kenny brought him a candy bar or a stick of beef jerky, and every day he told Butters how sorry he was, talking to him through the window and looking sad as Butters enjoyed the illicit treat Kenny had brought. Butters had forgiven him almost immediately, and now Kenny knew he hadn't just said he forgave him, he knew he really had.

Kenny had been extra nice to him after that, walking to and from the bus stop with him every day, and they started getting closer; and then—

Kenny felt that part of Butters' mind slam shut. It was a memory Kenny wasn't supposed to have yet, but Satan had been a second slow pulling the plug on this one. _And then I died…and everyone forgot the next day when I came back._

"This isn't what you're here for, Kenny," Satan said angrily. "Let's get to it."

Another memory was forced on him: Butters, home alone while Kenny was out running errands, when something on TV had horrified him and then made him sad. A school shooting on the news, on every network, kids dead, people asking why. He watched the news for a few minutes, then turned off the TV and wandered sadly through the house, wishing Kenny were there to hold him, and finding himself in the bedroom opening the closet door. He looked around, hoping to find one of Kenny's shirts to press to his face because just his scent would comfort him a little until he got home, but all their clothes were freshly laundered, even the pillow cases.

Butters, looking up on the shelf of the closet and spotting Kenny's old parkas up there at the far end (Kenny buried his face in his hands at this memory), and Butters thought that one of the oldest and smallest parkas might be nice to press his face into as well. He dragged a box from his side of the closet over so he could stand on it and reached up, pulling the smallest parka down from the shelf. He felt as small as the child who had once worn it as he held it up to press his face against it.

Butters, spotting the folded towel that had been hidden under the tiny orange parka, and reaching up to see what the lump inside it was. He felt himself growing up very fast as his fingers brushed against cold metal and he carefully lifted the pistol, staring at it fascinated. He handled it as if he'd done this before, knowing exactly what he was doing (Kenny heard Butters' father, giving his son perhaps the only useful advice he ever had: _Remember Butters,_ a _lways handle a gun as if it were loaded_ ), checking to see if it _was_ loaded, seeing that it wasn't, and then looking up and spotting the box of shells for it in the towel next to where it had been. He reached up and put it back, pausing only a moment before folding the towel back around it like it was before and laying the parka on top of the towel.

The memory faded as Satan finally removed his hands from Kenny's head. He cursed himself for ever buying that gun.

"You…you said…that your father interfered." He stared at Jesus, waiting for an answer. "And that…he could be stopped!"

Jesus looked angrily at Satan. "Your turn now, Satan. I told him my part of this."

Satan looked down at his hooves. "Oh, all right." He sounded like a petulant child. "There's a chance he might not kill himself, if someone stops him."

Jesus said: "And if he is stopped, Kenny, then your reward will be as great as your punishment would have been."

"You should shut up about that, Jesus. It's not going to happen, so don't get poor Kenny's hopes up." Satan laughed again.

"What do I have to do?" Kenny would move heaven, earth, _and_ hell to save Butters.

"You get to do nothing, Kenny!" Satan replied. "Except hope you picked your friends wisely. It's all up to those two assholes now."

"Why do you have to bring them into it at all?" Kenny asked angrily. "This is between us, not—"

 _"BECAUSE THEY FUCKED ME OVER LAST TIME!_ " Satan bellowed and Kenny cringed away, suddenly terrified. Satan looked ready to rip his throat out with his fangs. Kenny had never died while he was in hell, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he did. "You were supposed to have stayed here three years ago! Either of those two alone wouldn't have figured it out, but together they did, and cost me three years of listening to Cthulhu's shit. This is payback Kenny. Your two friends are _not_ going to be able to stop him."

Kenny wanted to feel hopeful, to have enough faith in Stan and Kyle that they would protect Butters until—

"How long do they have to look after him? Weeks? Months?"

Satan shook his head. "No, Kenny. "Just for one day. Twenty four hours."

Kenny's eyes widened. "Twenty. Four. Hours?" He smiled as the first scrap of real hope suddenly appeared. "Are you fucking kidding me? Stan and Kyle can look after him for that long with no problem at all."

"You don't understand his resolve, Kenny," Satan said. "But you're about to." He smiled his most awful smile.

"What do you mean?" He was terrified of what the answer might be. 

"Jesus is about to give you some pretty awesome superpowers for this." Satan gestured to Jesus. "It's your turn again, oh Savior of mankind."

Kenny whirled around desperately. "What is he talking about?"

"Kenny," Jesus said sadly. "I'm afraid you're not going to learn what happens through anyone's memories this time. Instead…you're going to watch it as it happens. And you'll be watching it through Butters." He started to raise his hands towards Kenny's face; Kenny realized what was about to happen and tried to pull away, and this time it was Satan who held him down while Jesus pressed his hands to the sides of Kenny's head.

There was another brilliant flash of light. Kenny jumped to his feet, clutching at his temples. He could see everything Butters was seeing, like watching the reflection of a television in a window, only he couldn't turn away from it. Butters was standing at the kitchen sink, washing a head of lettuce. Kenny couldn't hear the water running, but he could feel it, cold and wet on his hands. Sound came a moment later, slightly muffled as if heard through cotton: The running water and Butters humming happily to himself.

Then something else happened: Despite the terrible situation he was in, Kenny felt a blissful, contented happiness wash over him and knew this was what Butters was feeling. He looked at that beloved pair of hands that he was seeing through Butters' eyes as they turned the head of lettuce this way and that under the running water. _He doesn't know yet_ Kenny realized with rising horror, and it was just a matter of time before the phone rang, or a car pulled into the driveway, to shatter his happiness. _Stan and Kyle wouldn't tell him over the phone_ , he thought wildly. _They'll come and tell him in person—_

Butters was singing out loud now: _Lu Lu Lu! I got some apples_ -

Kenny sank to his knees sobbing. "Please don't do this," he pleaded helplessly. ( _Lu Lu Lu! Y'got some too!_ ) "I can't watch this—"

Instead of answering, Satan and Jesus rose together and walked over to the door. Satan pulled it open, letting in a cloud of sulfur fumes and the screams from outside. Only Jesus turned back to look at him. "We'll be back just before the time comes, my son. We'll know when that is…because we'll be watching _you_." They left the room together, Satan pulling the door closed, drowning out the noise.

Kenny buried his face in his forearms and rolled up into himself as tightly as he could on the stone floor, but nothing could stop the images and feelings that kept pouring in. Butters had the head of lettuce on the cutting board now and was peeling off wilted leaves, and _now_ it was coming, Stan's car pulling slowly into the driveway, Butters hearing it and turning around to look out the front window at it and feeling delighted that his friends were here…and that Kenny was back. They sure were taking a long time in the driveway! _They're giving him as much time as possible before telling him, as much time as they can to think his world still has me in it._ Kenny curled up even tighter on the floor, wanting this to stop and powerless to make it.

Now he saw Stan and Kyle out the kitchen window, walking toward the house, and Butters drying his hands on a dish towel and rushing to the front door to open it before they got there, ready to throw his arms around Kenny, proud that his best friends would be watching. He saw Butters open the door, felt his surprise that only Stan's car was in the driveway, and that Kenny wasn't there with them, then sudden fear at the looks on their faces and the dirt on their clothes.

"Butters," Stan said tearfully, and right then Butters knew. He started shaking his head. "There's been an accident. Kenny…I'm sorry…"

All the air was torn from Butters' lungs. It was as if someone had kicked him in the chest, and Kenny wondered if this was what having a heart attack felt like. Even as the horror of _Kenny is dead_ was sinking in, Butters was suffocating, unable to draw a breath. He began clawing at his throat. Kenny silently pleaded with him, trying to draw air in for him but this transmission was one-way only. _Breathe, Butters. Please…just breathe._ Kenny felt everything go gray and black as Butters fought to pull in a breath. The spell was suddenly broken as his body finally rebelled and he pulled in a deep whoop of air and released it in a scream. It was the same sound he had been making when Kenny had found him chained up inside the doghouse, only amplified an infinite amount in the pain it tried to unleash. Stan and Kyle were both trying to hug him at the same time.

Then the world tipped over on its side and went black as Butters mercifully fainted, Kenny doing the same a moment later.


	14. Keep Me In Your Heart For Awhile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own South Park or the song by Warren Zevon in this chapter, the youtube for which is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lIs0bKTnUs

The next eleven hours were the worst version of hell Kenny had ever known. It was unimaginable sorrow broken by periods of complete nothingness.

Butters had fainted, but Kenny could still feel him being picked up and carried, probably by Stan, and set down on the couch. He came to again just as Stan and Kyle sat down on either side of him. _Kenny's dead, Kenny's dead…_ Butters leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his face and crying. He felt two hands on his back gently rubbing him, trying to console an ache that would not be consoled.

Butters lashed out with his foot, hitting the table as hard as he could. All three flowerpots fell over, one of them breaking in two. He kicked the table again and one of the pieces fell to the floor, dragging several pieces of twine with it.

"Butters!" Kyle grabbed his leg to stop him from kicking the table yet again.

" _NO!_ " Butters shrieked, wrapping his arms around his legs and hiding his face again. "No, no, no…" his voice faded to a whisper. At that moment he remembered the gun upstairs, and knew instantly what he had to do.

Kenny shook his head and whispered desperately: "No, Butters. No!" He didn't see how either of them were going to get through twenty four hours of this. Until this moment, Kenny had never realized that grief could ever possibly hurt this much.

"I'm…going to lie down," Butters said through his tears, doing so with his face against the back of the couch. The only thing keeping him from plunging into madness was the knowledge that he could end this pain. "Can—can you just leave me alone for a while?"

Even though he couldn't see them, he knew Stan and Kyle were exchanging a glance. Kenny felt the first bit of hope when he heard Stan tearfully say: "No, Butters. We all need each other right now. We're not going to leave."

Instead of answering, Butters curled up tighter into himself, burying his face against the upholstery. Kenny could feel him trying to go to sleep, trying to go _away_ , anywhere that this pain wouldn't follow.

Several minutes passed, and Kenny heard Kyle whisper: "Dude. Maybe we'd better call some people and make sure no one shows up later expecting a party."

They felt Stan get up from the couch. "Good idea. I will." Butters felt Kyle's hand on his back, massaging him gently, and heard Stan's muffled voice coming from the kitchen.

"Butters, can I get you anything?" Kyle asked. "A glass of water…anything?"

"Water," Butters whispered. He felt Kyle get up and opened one eye to look over the back of the couch, gauging the distance to the stairs against the distance to his friends. They were both in sight just inside the kitchen; Butters would never make it up the stairs in time. He would have to wait for a better chance.

Kenny could hear Stan talking quietly to Kyle. "I called Cartman. I figured I'd let the biggest mouth in town know first."

"Do you really think he'll take care of things Stan?"

"Kyle…" Stan's voice was breaking. "He'd already heard. He said the news is spreading everywhere. He promised me he'd take care of the people coming here tonight…you should have _heard_ him Kyle…he's as broken as we are about this."

They returned to the couch together and sat down. Butters sat up long enough to take a couple sips from the water bottle Kyle had brought him, then laid down again. Amazingly, his shock allowed him to drift off into an uneasy sleep, and for three or four hours there was nothing but silent dreamless blackness from him. Kenny finally managed to sleep off and on as well.

Around 8:00 there was a knock at the door. Butters sat up, and all the pain and loss came rushing back. Stan and Kyle looked at each other over the top of Butters' head, and Stan sighed and got up to answer the door. He stood staring outside for a moment, then turned to the couch. "Uh, guys…come here. You both need to see this."

Kyle looked at Butters, who nodded sadly. Kyle helped him to his feet and together they went to the door and looked out alongside Stan.

There were at least 100 people gathered along the sidewalk at the end of their front yard and spilling out onto the street. Each one was holding a single white candle and a sheet of paper; the candles cast a cheerful glow over the otherwise somber gathering. Kenny recognized practically everyone he knew in the crowd: All their classmates, their employees, Kyle's parents, Stan's parents, his own parents and Karen…and even Kevin was there.

Most surprising of all was Jimmy Valmer, sitting a few feet ahead of everyone else in a leather office chair holding a guitar, and when Butters appeared, he began strumming it. The group began singing lyrics from the papers they held. Kenny recognized the song; someone had performed it at one of his memorial services a few years ago, when he was dying more regularly and he'd been dead long enough this time to actually have a service. He had liked it so much he had googled it after coming back. It was Warren Zevon's 'Keep Me In Your Heart For Awhile'; Mr. Zevon had recorded it as a gift to his family after being diagnosed with terminal cancer.

_Shadows are falling and I'm running out of breath_

_Keep me in your heart for awhile_

_If I leave you it doesn't mean that I love you any less_

_Keep me in your heart for awhile_

That was all Butters could listen to before breaking down again and burying his face against Kyle's chest. Stan wrapped his arms around both of them, mostly to keep Butters from falling to the ground. The impromptu performance was gorgeous, but Butters just wanted it to end so he could go back inside.

_Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house_

_Maybe you'll think of me and smile_

_You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse_

_Keep me in your heart for awhile_

Butters started crying harder and began pulling himself away from them, trying to get back in the house. Stan said to Kyle with tears in his eyes: "Why don't you take him back inside? I'll go out and talk to them."

Kyle nodded and led Butters back into the living room. Kenny suddenly sat up, terrified. He realized that Butters was alone with Kyle, and that he was in so much agony that he was thinking about kneeing Kyle in the crotch, hoping to incapacitate him long enough to make a break for the stairs and get to the gun before anyone stopped him. Kenny felt Butter's muscles tighten, and it was only Butters' profound sense of kindness that stopped him at the last moment. He couldn't bring himself to hurt his friend that way, so he would wait for another opportunity. They sat down together on the couch, Kyle pulling Butters to his chest and holding him the way Kenny used to.

Butters looked up two minutes later as Stan came back inside the house, followed by Cartman. "Uh, Stan…" Kyle said as Stan went into the kitchen. "Is this really a good idea?"

"Quiet down, Jew." Cartman's voice had none of its usual rancor. Stan returned carrying a bottle of water and they approached Butters together. "Who do you think put together that candlelight vigil thing outside tonight?"

Cartman handed Butters a small white tablet which he put in his mouth with barely a glance and swallowed with the water bottle Stan handed him a moment later. "Thank you, Cartman," Kenny whispered.

" _You_ did that, Eric?" Butters asked quietly, wiping a drop of water from his bottom lip.

Stan was nodding in reply. "Craig told me that it was his idea—"

"Hell yeah, I did that!" Cartman snapped. "Do you think you're going to get a hundred of those black assholes together for something like that on such short notice without _someone_ browbeating them into it?" He sat down on the couch next to Butters. "Now get out Kyle. I want to talk to Butters alone for a minute." When Kyle didn't move, Cartman added: "Seriously Kyle…take a break. Go have a glass of milk or something."

Kyle was looking at Stan, obviously thinking that this was a really bad idea. Stan nodded. "Come on dude…it's okay."

Kyle shook his head doubtfully. "All right." He stood up and turned to address Butters. "We'll be in the kitchen if you need us, okay?" Stan and Kyle walked away together; Butters watched them go and then looked back down at the carpet again.

"I can't believe you did that for me Eric," Butters said quietly. "Thank you."

"Do you know _why_ I did that, Butters?" Cartman's bottom lip was trembling. He took one of Butters' hands in both of his. When Butters shook his head 'no' Cartman went on, his voice rough from holding back tears. "Because I have no idea what to say to you! I'm no good at this sort of shit…so instead of trying to say something, I did something instead."

Cartman took one of his hands back to wipe his eyes. "Butters. Dude." Cartman swallowed, fighting to speak. Kenny could barely breathe as he watched. "You know all those times I—" Cartman blinked back tears and shifted on the couch so he was even closer to Butters, squeezing his hand. "Those times I ripped on you and Kenny about…you know. You know that was just me being an asshole, right? I didn't really mean nothing by it."

He squeezed Butters' hand again, not quite demanding an answer. Kenny sat up straight as Butters whispered, "I know that, Eric." Butters' thoughts suddenly seemed clearer.

"And I also know that I'm the last person in the world you want to be alone in a room with right now. So listen up Butters: I'm going to go, and let the hippy and the Jew come back. That pill you swallowed was one of my mom's Ambiens…one of the best sleeping pills on the planet. It's not going to make you stop hurting, Butters, but it's going to knock you on your ass for a few hours, which is what you need right now. Go to sleep…and if there's anything you need that those two can't do, just pick up the phone and call me…anytime…and I'll be right over. And I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Butters nodded. Tears were streaming down Kenny's cheeks. Of all people, Eric fucking Cartman had apparently gotten through to him, at least for now.

Cartman stood up, and Stan and Kyle came back. They all three looked at him, and Kyle asked: "What did you _say_ to him, Cartman? He looks…better." Instead of answering, Cartman raised his right fist, thumb and pinky finger extended pantomiming a phone and held it against his ear.

"See you tomorrow Eric," Butters mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear. And Kenny realized he was lying. Butters had no intention of being alive any longer than he had to be.

"Good night, Cartman," Stan said sincerely, and they took their places on each side of Butters as Cartman left. Stan carefully put his hand on Butters' leg and asked: "How're you doing, Butters?"

"I dunno. Okay I guess." _He's thinking more clearly, but he's lying_ , Kenny realized. Butters needed them to believe that he was okay, so they would leave him alone long enough—

"Good. Kyle and I are going to stay right here, as long as you need us. Do you think you want to try to go to sleep?"

"I might…but down here, on the couch, okay?" If they were in bed with him, he would have no chance of getting to the gun. But if they were both downstairs, and he could get out of the room without anyone knowing—

He closed his eyes, and a few minutes later, his feelings began to go numb and soft as Liane's Ambien started working…but they were still there. Butters refused to lie down when they urged him to, wanting to sit up instead. It wasn't long before his chin was on his chest and he was snoring lightly. Kenny could hear it, but nothing else and soon that was gone as well. Every bit of input coming from Butters was gone, the wires were all unplugged, and there was just silent darkness. If he could just stay this way for a whole day…

But something was happening now. If it was vision, it was turbulent browns and grays swirling together as if in some mental cauldron; if it was feelings they were confused and afraid, but it was neither of those. It was Butters, wandering lost and alone through an empty gray wilderness. He was looking for something very important that he had lost, and he had no idea where to begin looking, nor was he even sure what he was looking for.

It was the beginning of a dream, and it wasn't just a dream but a memory: A shovel, digging into the ground in the backyard late at night, a hole deep enough to stand in, Butters digging a hole deep enough that the top of it was over his head. It had taken hours to get this far but the dream had just begun, and daddy was standing at the edge of the hole looking down at him from a long way up, telling him to give me the shovel, you're _really grounded now mister_ , and you can stay there until morning and think about what you've done.

Butters, trying to get out of the hole he had dug, trying to grab onto the top to pull himself up, and as Kenny watched him do this, he started to cry again, because he had somehow forgotten all about this night some six years ago until this very moment. Something had shifted and opened up in his mind, allowing this memory to resurface as if it had just happened yesterday.

The ground was too muddy, and Butters kept slipping and falling back again and again until he finally gave up, curling into a ball on the bottom of the hole, crying but not _too_ loud because daddy will hear and make him stay down there another day.

Kenny…in Butters' memory, he has wings when he first appears…looking down at him in horror. Daddy didn't hear him crying, but Kenny had, and he knelt on the ground, reaching with both arms to pull him out of the hole at 2:00 in the morning. Butters, completely covered in mud and walking the mile to Kenny's house this time because it was a warm summer night and he had all his clothes on, including his shoes. Kenny spoke a nonstop stream of comforting nonsense as they walked, and when they got to his house he led Butters into his bathroom, practically undressed him himself and drew a bath in the dingy bathtub.

Butters, in the tub with his arms wrapped around his shins, face against his knees crying while Kenny gently cleaned his back with a washcloth.

The dream came undone because it stopped making sense; Kenny heard Butters' voice whispering like a demented narrator, explaining why what happened next was impossible.

_But…after you got me out of there, and somehow helped patch things up with me and daddy, you and I started having a life together, Kenny! You even kissed me a couple times, and then you got hit by a car. I went to your funeral and cried…and then I forgot—_

Butters awoke with a scream. "Oh Jesus!" All his pain came rushing back.

Stan and Kyle grabbed his arms, one on each side. "Butters!" Kyle said. "It's okay…you had a bad dream!"

"Oh God, did I!" He closed his eyes and felt arms going around him. "I dreamed Kenny died…"

Silence.

Kenny buried his face in his hands and wept. "Butters…dude…" Stan tried.

"No, I mean he died when we were fourteen! Oh—" he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "No…that doesn't make sense." They held him while he settled down, all the details of that dream already gone. Time passed, and they backed away only slightly, staying near but giving him space.

Butters kept dozing and waking, his head jerking every few seconds. Stan finally said, "Butters, c'mon dude. Lay down. Kyle—" he looked up at Kyle standing in the kitchen doorway. "Will get your blanket and pillow—"

"Just _my_ pillow please, Kyle," Butters said, surprisingly clearly. "I don't want the blanket." _He wants my pillow and the blanket there on the bed for something._

"Sure thing, Butters." Kyle went upstairs, returning a minute later with Butters' pillow. He set the pillow down on the end of the couch, and they urged Butters to lie down, which he finally did, staring at the forgotten piles of stuffing, pieces of twine, handmade flowerpots, half-built plushies, and gadgetry from his various projects on the table. None of it would ever interest him again.

Stan sat down again next to his feet and gently rubbed his leg just below his knee. "Go to sleep, Butters," he told him. "I'm going to be right here when you wake up."

Kenny barely noticed Kyle settle on the recliner next to the couch, nor noticed when he and Stan grasped their hands together. Butters closed his eyes leaving only darkness, and that feeling that there was no life left in him anymore, that without Kenny nothing will ever be good or safe or fun again. He dozed again, that Ambien-fueled blackness settling over everything, and for a long time all the pain was gone. Kenny reveled in it, thankful for the brief respite, knowing it would be over again the moment Butters woke up.

Kenny felt a deep feeling of peace settle over him, and recognized it as Butters finally falling deeply asleep for the first time since this nightmare had begun. He felt truly content, truly _happy_ for the first time in almost a day, and knew that Butters was starting to dream again, and that this time he was dreaming of the only thing that could ever make him feel this way again. Kenny saw his own face in Butters' dream, only in a way he had never seen it before: Beautiful, with a soft halo of white light around it. He knew that halo wasn't because he was dead; it was how Butters had always seen him. Kenny wept miserably as he whispered, "Oh, Butters…"

_Please, God. Just one more minute. Give him just one more minute._

The dream faded, and Kenny bowed his head. Butters opened his eyes and the pain and awful emptiness came rushing back. With it now though was a new feeling as he looked around himself, one of relief from knowing that the pain would finally be over soon.

Kenny barely noticed that he was now looking down at their living room from somewhere near the ceiling fan. All the sorrow and loss was still there, but there was relief now as well. He could hear the hum of the refrigerator, something Butters hadn't noticed before. Someone was snoring softly. Kyle was curled up on his side on the recliner, deeply asleep. Stan was near the middle of the couch, his head thrown back, also sleeping. Butters was sitting up at the end of the couch closest to the stairs, wide awake, looking at them both.

The huge iron door swung open, letting in the screams of the damned, and Jesus and Satan came in. Kenny knew what that meant and shook his head, pleading as the door clanged shut behind them and they approached.

"Please. No. Don't let this happen—" Kenny buried his face in his hands and wept. "Please…please…" His voice was barely a whisper.

They didn't say a word, just settled onto the cushions on either side of him, and Kenny knew all was lost. He would never forgive Stan and Kyle for letting him down, even if he could die and be reborn again a million times. Kenny felt everything sad that had ever happened since the world began as Butters slowly stood up, careful not to disturb Stan sleeping on the couch next to him. Kenny began crying, then screaming, then finally threw himself on the floor, not caring that Jesus and Satan were watching him as he beat his fists against the cold stone, yelling inhuman cries of anger and sorrow.


	15. What Were You Doing?

Butters stood beside the couch for a long time looking fondly at his friends, finally feeling at peace. Kenny was drained; he had no tears left to cry. But even with the relief that this was finally almost over, the agony that Butters felt over Kenny's loss was neverending and they both felt it as keenly as ever. He knew Butters planned to lie down on their bed and take their blanket and cover his head with it, holding Kenny's pillow to his face before putting the gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger, hoping to spare his friends from seeing the worst of the gore he knew he would leave behind. Butters hoped that Kenny's scent would still be on the pillow, so he could smell him one last time.

Kenny watched Butters plan out the last forty seconds of his life. It would be just a short walk to the stairs and then up to the bedroom, and then just four steps to the closet; Butters could get the gun and load it in seconds, and then it was just a few feet to the bed, lying down and putting the pillow to his face, the blanket over that, taking a deep hopeful breath while pressing the pillow to his nose as he put the gun in his mouth. Kenny felt Butters' pain rising again, felt a wretched sob rise in his own throat and knew Butters was feeling the same thing and had only moments to flee the room before he might start crying again and wake someone up. Butters turned quickly toward the stairs, took a silent step toward them, took another—

And then he tripped, falling to the floor hard with a loud crash, landing on his arm. _That's gonna leave a bruise,_ Kenny thought as he grabbed his own wrist in pain. One of Stan's legs jerked as Butters fell, awakening him instantly.

And Kenny saw what Stan had done even before Butters did, saw the piece of twine from the table that he had tied around Butters' ankle while he was asleep, tying the other end to his own leg so Butters couldn't go anywhere without waking him. Kyle was awake as well from the commotion and starting to stand up.

Kenny leapt to his feet, laughing and crying for joy at the same time as Butters stared uncomprehendingly at the string tied around his ankle. Jesus and Satan sat back wordlessly to watch this unexpected turn of events. Kenny howled " _WOO HOOOO!_ " as he watched Stan dive from the couch onto the floor next to Butters, Kyle settling more carefully next to them, both of them now holding Butters as he wept miserably.

Kenny didn't care about what happened in the next five minutes, he only cared about what wasn't happening _right now_. Stan and Kyle were in charge of this moment, not God, not Jesus, and certainly not Satan, and the fact that Butters wasn't reaching up into their closet for the gun _right now_ was all that mattered. Butters was just beginning to realize why he had tripped and why Stan and Kyle were on the floor holding him.

Kenny sank to his knees and watched, his hands pressed to the sides of his head while tears drenched his cheeks all over again, while he sobbed and laughed and tried to catch his breath. It was like watching the greatest Star Wars Indiana Jones Backdoor Sluts 9 Lord of the Rings Terrance and Phillip Asses of Fire movie all rolled up into one _ever…_ because he was starting to see that this one might have a happy ending too.

"I just can't do it fellas." Butters fought like he was trying to stand up; Kyle and Stan held him back, not letting him. _At least now he's fighting for something, Goddamnit._ "I can't! Without him. Kenny. I just can't—" Butters shook his head violently and screamed, pressing his hands to his mouth because he was even scaring himself. "Oh, God…" he pressed his face against Kyle's leg. "This hurts so fucking much."

He felt arms around him holding him tight, hands caressing his hair, kneading his back; Stan and Kyle whispered to him, rocked him, and he eventually cried himself out. Stan settled back against the side of the couch, easing Butters onto his chest. Kyle settled over both of them. They lay there for awhile, the only sound Butters' ragged breathing.

"That was pretty smart, Stan," Kyle finally said, nodding at the string tied to his and Butters' legs.

"I had to do something, dude. I could barely keep my eyes open."

Kyle nodded, and they sat without saying anything for several minutes.

"What were you doing, Butters?" Kyle finally asked.

Butters sighed. "There's a gun…on the top shelf of the closet in our bedroom, on the far end, wrapped up in a towel under some of Kenny's old parkas. It's not loaded. The bullets are next to it." Kenny watched Stan and Kyle nod to each other, and Kyle stood up to go upstairs and get the gun. He came back a minute later, holding the gun in front of him as if it was hot.

"I'm just going to go put this in your trunk, Stan." Stan nodded, and they watched Kyle go out the front door.

When Kyle was gone, Stan shook Butters' shoulder, hard. "Butters, I am so fucking pissed at you right now-!"

Kenny blinked. Butters looked up at Stan with fear in his eyes.

"What if you had gotten to that gun…and done what you were planning? What would Kyle and I be going through _right now_?" Stan was furious, and he shook him again, much too hard. "It's bad enough we lost Kenny! God _damnit!_ If we'd heard you shoot yourself …Jesus Christ, Butters!"

They heard Stan's trunk lid slam shut. They both knew Kyle would be coming back through the front door any moment.

"At least Kyle's still in one piece, Stan," Butters said defiantly, and just like that, Stan's anger evaporated, replaced by horror.

"Oh shit Butters, I'm sorry." Stan grabbed him in a hug. "I shouldn't have shaken you like that! Oh fuck, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

Butters hugged him back, actually telling _him_ that it was okay.

"I just can't lose you too, Butters," Stan said, crying. "I'll never get over what happened to Kenny. Losing you also would just be too much." They held each other, crying. Kyle came back inside, and quietly sat down beside them. Kenny could tell by the way Kyle was looking at them that he knew something had happened while he was outside. Stan whispered as quietly as he could into Butters' ear: "I'm so sorry, Butters. I love you."

The three of them sat quietly together for several minutes. "Butters," Kyle finally said. "You can't do that, okay?"

"We already talked about it Kyle," Stan answered for him, a bit sharply. Kyle nodded, and that seemed to be the end of it, at least for the moment.

Kenny was becoming aware of a fundamental shift in Butters' thinking. He was beginning to realize that, if it weren't for Stan, he'd be dead now with all of his pain gone, leaving behind a lot of people who cared about him. That candlelight vigil was proof of that. What he wouldn't be doing is sitting on the floor next to his couch being held by his two best friends. Until this moment, he hadn't considered the effect his death would have on others, and he cursed himself for his selfishness. He shuddered at the thought of Stan and Kyle being awakened by a gunshot and what they would have found when they went to investigate. He was grateful he hadn't hurt Kyle earlier when he was alone with him. And, he was starting to realize that he was glad he was still alive.

Butters had gone to the very brink and peered over the edge, thinking he liked what he saw there, only to be yanked back from it by a three foot long piece of string tied around his ankle. He found himself liking it back here away from the edge even more. He remembered something Kenny had told him once, and struggled to put his thoughts into words.

"Right after Kenny moved in with me, I asked him to please not ever die. I told him I just wouldn't be able to take it if he did. I loved him so much, you know?" He sobbed, buried his face in his arms, then wiped his eyes on his sleeves and looked up again. "He told me that he would never lie to me, and that I knew he could never promise me that. But he promised he would _try._ That was the day he quit smoking cigarettes for me. Then he promised that…if anything ever did happen to him…" His voice was breaking again. Kenny couldn't move, and the pain in his throat was like fire. "He promised me that _I_ would be all right. And he said that…when I make a promise…that he'll keep that promise, no matter what. And he never once broke a promise he ever made to me."

He buried his face in his arms again and spoke fast because he knew he was about to not be able to speak at all. "But he isn't here to keep that promise anymore. So I guess I'm just going to have to keep it for him. I just don't see how I'm going to do it—"

Butters completely lost it, all the heartache and grief he felt, his terror of all the days to come without Kenny in them and the long nights without him in their bed pouring from him as he cried harder than he ever had in his life. Kenny's eyes were squeezed shut with his own tears, but he felt Stan and Kyle pressing up tightly against Butters, one on each side, hugging him hard while he cried himself out. After several long minutes, he was finally able to look up again.

"That was the day the two of you watched that movie together," Kyle said. Butters wiped his eyes on one of his shirt sleeves as Kyle continued. " _The Perfect Storm_? You went grocery shopping the next day, and Kenny walked over to Stan's house and told us about what you had said. He asked us to promise him that if anything ever happened to him, that we'd stay with you. He was afraid you might try something like you did. He _loved you_ Butters…so much that he wanted to make sure you would be okay if something bad ever happened to him."

Butters nodded sadly. It occurred to him that Kenny was for all intent and purposes reaching out from beyond the grave to keep him safe.

"I won't do anything like that again, fellas," Butters said.

"Good, Butters," Stan said. " _Good!_ You've going to get through this. You know it's what he would have wanted you to do."

"No, Stan…it's what he _wants_ me to do." Kenny shook his head while tears ran down his cheeks.

Kyle nodded. "That's right. Butters: There's no good byes. Only love,"

Stan looked at him curiously. "Hmm?"

"It's from that movie," Butters told him. "At the end, weeks after she'd gone to the memorial service the town had for all those men that died at sea. She told his mother that she dreamed about him sometimes, and that he always seemed happy in her dreams. And in the dream, he tells her the same words that he had said just before he drowned: 'There's no good byes. There's only love.'"

Butters sat up straighter and continued. "Fellas, I've got a…I've got a funeral to plan. And then a business to run. And…" He looked from Kyle to Stan and back to Kyle. Both of them were rubbing his back, gently rocking him while they listened. "And I'm just so tired right now. I just want to go to sleep. Can we…get this off of me please?" He picked listlessly at the knot next to his ankle.

Kenny felt Stan and Kyle exchange glances over Butters' shoulders. "Sure Butters," Stan said. "You're going to need scissors or a knife though; I knotted that like eight times." Stan looked up at Kyle.

He quit picking at the knot. "Thank you, Stan. I'm…I'm real glad you did that."

Kyle gave Butters shoulder a final squeeze and stood up. "I'll be right back." He went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with the knife Butters had been going to cut the head of lettuce up with yesterday. He quickly slid it between Butters' ankle and the string, cutting through it and handing the knife to Stan to cut the twine from his own leg. Once Kyle had returned the knife to the kitchen, Stan and Butters got up, Stan holding most of Butters' weight as they stood.

"Just the couch, Stan," Butters said quietly, clinging to him. "I'm too tired to go upstairs. But…can I have our blanket from the bed please? And I want Kenny's pillow."

Kyle had returned from the kitchen. "Sure Butters. I'll get them." He went upstairs, and Butters sat down hard on the couch.

Stan sat down next to him, and gently put his hand on his shoulder, looking at him desperately. "Butters," he said, his lips trembling as tears threatened. " _We're_ okay…right?"

Butters looked at him like he didn't know what Stan was talking about. Realization flooded his face and he hugged Stan. "Of course we are, Stan!" He pressed his face into Stan's shoulder, wishing he was doing this with Kenny. "Oh, Stan…of course we are." He sobbed against Stan's neck. "I…didn't deserve that," he said, and Stan winced painfully. "But I _needed_ it, y'know?" He hugged Stan tighter. "Thank you for saving my life."

Kyle returned with the pillow and blanket and as they were getting Butters settled, the scene faded. Kenny was no longer an invisible observer.

"Wait—" Kenny said, confused. "What's happening?"

Jesus put his hand on Kenny's shoulder. Kenny looked at him fearfully, but Jesus was smiling. "Kenny: It's _over_." The hand on his shoulder squeezed. "He wants to live now. You've won!"

Kenny felt his jaw drop open. "Huh…" he managed after a few seconds. He knew he must look like an idiot staring at Jesus the way he was. After a few seconds, he felt tremendous heat at his back, as if the sun had just come out on a cloudy day. He remembered Satan behind him and turned to look over his shoulder.

Satan rose to his feet with a furious roar. His hooves struck sparks on the floor as he stormed angrily toward the door; instead of opening it, he flung his right arm out, hurling an enormous fireball at it, destroying not only the door but most of the wall in a deafening thunderclap. Satan strode through the burning hole he had made and stormed off. The fireball continued on, rolling away from them through the valley, the screams from hell reaching a new fevered pitch. After several long seconds it silently exploded like a supernova, the hammersmash of sound slamming into them many seconds later with a concussive force like hundreds of demons hammering on sheet metal. Kenny pressed his hands against his ears, but nothing could block out this much noise.

" _CHRIST!_ " Jesus exclaimed. He flung up _his_ arm, and a new door and wall appeared, identical to the one that had just been destroyed, once again silencing the sound from outside. Kenny stared at it, thinking _you could have opened that door any time you wanted to._

"Of course I could have, my son," Jesus said, even though Kenny hadn't said anything aloud. "I _am_ the son of God."

Kenny nodded, and because he felt like something needed to be said to fill the sudden silence, he called out to the new door: "Hey! Don't go away mad!"

They looked at each other and laughed, Jesus at a pretty good joke, Kenny in pure relief.

0-0-0-0-0

Jesus took Kenny up to heaven, saying that they had some time before Kenny had to return to life for one final time. They didn't actually travel there. Kenny just blinked and they were there, standing together on the well-manicured grass at the shore of a lake. It was a beautiful warm spring day; a few sailboats were on the lake, beneath a sky that was an impossible shade of blue. It reminded Kenny of Butters' eyes.

Kenny knew he was exhausted when he said something to Jesus that he knew was idiotic the moment it had left his mouth: "So…I guess I'll never see you again."

"Well, my son," Jesus said, smiling. "I hope I see you again _someday_. Just maybe not for another sixty years or so. I'm sure you want to end up in the same place Leopold does."

Kenny chuckled. "Of course." They sat down on the ground beside the lake. "So…I'm really not going to remember _any_ of this?" He looked around at the lake, the sky, the trees…somewhere nearby, a bird was singing and off in the distance someone was mowing their lawn. 

"That's right, my child. You won't remember this, or any of your previous deaths." Jesus put his hand on Kenny's shoulder. "Understand something: When you return this last time, you might still get hit by a bus ten minutes after you get back. Or you might live another eighty years…but either way, it won't be _them_ who finally kill you."

Kenny looked around at the beautiful place he was in, and knew he wanted to return here someday; Butters would most certainly end up here with him. Another bird began singing from across the field behind him. The lake was struck with a million points of shimmering light beneath the warm sun.

Kenny had something he wanted to ask, but was afraid of what the answer might be. He was trying to think of some tangible way of closing out this soon to be forgotten book of his life.

Jesus made it easy for him: "There's something you want to ask me for, isn't there my son?"

Kenny nodded. "Yes. I…" He swallowed and plunged ahead with the knowledge he already had everything he needed and more. "I don't know how generous your father might be feeling, and he's already done so much—"

"I happen to know my father is feeling quite generous toward you right now, Kenny. He even said something about revising his book someday, and taking out the book of Job and replacing it with the book of Kenny." Jesus had a faraway look in his eyes. "He might have been joking though. It's hard to tell with him sometimes. But if there's something else you want, I think he might be obliging; and even if he isn't, I've worked a few miracles in my day. So…what would you like, my son?"

Kenny smiled. "Thank you, Jesus." He was starting to have an idea. "A couple things… _three_ things," he amended as a final part of his plan clicked into place. "First…when I go back, would it be all right if I hold on to all my memories for one hour before I forget everything? I promise I won't do anything to ruin what God did here."

Kenny bowed his head and waited. He'd asked for what he thought was the most difficult thing first, and if this was turned down, then the other two would be irrelevant.

Jesus gave him his answer. "And what else would you like Kenny?"

Kenny opened his eyes again and smiled. "Second…when I return, can I come back inside of one of the men's room stalls at the Bennigan's near where we live?" He quickly reeled off the last item on his list: "And third: Jesus, can I borrow a hundred dollars?"


	16. Epilogue - That's Where I Go

Thirty-five minutes later, Kenny slipped quietly through the back door of his and Butters' house. Everything had gone better than he could have ever hoped, and Butters' SUV sitting in the driveway undamaged finally convinced Kenny that their lives had been put back together again. Jesus had granted his three wishes, and at the Bennigan's, Bebe was just getting off her shift and had kindly offered him a ride home, which Kenny gratefully accepted.

"Just drop me off at the end of the street," Kenny had requested. He remembered that she had been one of the people at the candlelight vigil, so he knew everyone had already forgotten they had just been mourning him a few hours ago. Apparently there was nothing strange about him showing up in the middle of the night at Bennigan's with no ride home either. "I'm working on a surprise for him, so I need to sneak in."

"Sure thing." She stopped at the intersection at the end of their street and they had time to sit and talk for a few minutes. "You're an old soul, Kenny," she had told him as they began saying good night, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. "I can just tell. And you and Butters are a really sweet couple. You both give each other something you need. You give him strength, and he gives you…even more humanity than you already had."

"Thanks, Bebe. And thanks for the ride!" He climbed out of her car with nothing but the clothes on his back, a ridiculously long lifetime of memories he wished he could hold on to, and a single envelope in his hands. "Good night."

Without that ride, Kenny would have had to run all the way home from Bennigan's and would have been rushed once he'd gotten there. He wondered if Jesus had thrown in Bebe getting off work at just the right moment as a fourth favor. Now he had plenty of time, and he quietly closed the back door behind him, making his way through the kitchen. He had a little over twenty minutes to get everything ready before the universe reset itself around him one final time.

He went up to their bedroom and rummaged in one of Butters' desk drawers for a pen and piece of paper, and carefully disguising his handwriting from his usual barely legible scrawl, he wrote a short note. He turned his attention to the rest of the envelope's contents, the pen pausing over the bottom line. He smiled at the final joke he was playing on himself, one that he would never get the punch line to. He filled in the last line and sealed everything into the envelope, wrote _TO KENNY AND BUTTERS_ on it in the same disguised handwriting, and dropped the envelope next to the front door, where it would look like someone had slipped it through the mail slot.

Finally he walked into the living room and stared down at a beautiful sight: Stan and Kyle were both sleeping, curled up together on their sides on the La-Z-Boy, Stan behind Kyle, spooning him. They somehow managed to make it look comfortable. Butters was also sleeping, lying on his side on the couch, knees not quite straight, arms folded against his chest. The sweetest part of this whole scene for Kenny was the big empty space on the cushions in front of Butters, and he thought happily: _That's where I go._

"I love you guys," Kenny whispered, feeling his time growing short. "I just hope I don't ever forget how much." He walked quietly to the couch, gazing down at the most beautiful thing the universe has ever made. "Butters…" Kenny could find no words to add. What do you say to someone after you've seen how beautiful you are in their dreams?

He carefully laid down on the couch, his face inches from Butters' chest, breathing in his scent, rejoicing in his presence. "I love you," he breathed. He was about to close his eyes and go to sleep, not believing how many things that were going through his mind were about to be forgotten…when Butters reflexively reached over and wrapped an arm around his back. Kenny held his breath, but Butters' slow steady breathing told him that he was still asleep.

"I told you you'd be okay," Kenny whispered, laying his fingertips against Butters' chest, knowing this wouldn't wake him. They slept this way a lot. Kenny fell asleep and dreamed.

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny awoke to the smell of coffee, and the sounds of Kyle's laughter and breakfast being made coming from the kitchen. He was disoriented, having just come from a very long and convoluted dream that was now unraveling in the light of day. He had been in this dream for an extremely long time, and Kenny was left with the feeling of wanting to know what happened next, even though he'd already forgotten everything about it.

Kyle's voice came from the kitchen: "I think that's _enough_ eggs, Butters!"

"But Kenny _likes_ eggs, Kyle." Stan was just waking up in the chair next to him, and they smiled at each other.

"That's my Butters, always watching out for my cholesterol. G'morning Stan."

"Hey Kenny." Stan was wincing like the light was too bright and he looked like he had a headache. "That was fun, huh?"

Kenny thought back on last night and had to agree. It had been a fun party with lots of their friends, celebrating their third anniversary. Once everyone else had left around midnight, the four of them had stayed up talking and drinking beer and wine coolers. Butters had four wine coolers, which is unheard of for him and he fell asleep on the couch while the other three sat up, quietly talking until almost 4:00. Kenny couldn't remember finally falling asleep on the couch next to Butters, nor could he remember Butters getting up and climbing over him to go make breakfast.

Kyle and Butters came in from the kitchen, each carrying a tray piled high with plates, an incredible amount of food, cups, silverware, napkins, and a pot of coffee. Stan and Kenny helped them spread the feast out on the table and soon they all had plates with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, toast... Kenny took a grateful swallow of coffee.

"Who wants ketchup?" Butters asked and jumped up to go back into the kitchen. As he returned, he passed the front door and looked down. "Hey fellas, what's this?" He bent down and picked an envelope up off the floor.

"I might be wrong here," Kyle said. "But I think it might be something called 'mail.'"

"No, it…" Butters turned the envelope over in his hands, then looked up at Kyle and laughed. "No, smart guy! It just says 'To Kenny and Butters' on it, and there's no stamp." He brought it over to them and handed it to Kenny.

"Weird." Kenny turned the envelope over, looking at both sides, then carefully pulled it open. He removed the contents, and as he looked at them (a folded piece of paper and two $50.00 gift certificates for Bennigan's) he said, "Hey! You guys want to go to Bennigan's later?"

"We're going to Bennigan's?" Butters asked happily, taking the certificates from Kenny.

"Dude…what is this?" Kyle asked. "Who's giving you gift certificates to restaurants? What's that note say?"

Kenny unfolded it and they all gathered around to read. In beautiful and perfect cursive handwriting, the letter read:

_Kenny and Butters: You two deserve all the happiness the world has to give. Take freely from it, keep giving back more than you take, and love each other forever. (You too, Stan and Kyle!)_

The note wasn't signed. "Dude…" Kyle said again, taking one of the gift certificates from Butters to read the 'From' line.

"Okay, this is pretty fucked up right here," Stan said, reading the same line on the slip of paper that Kyle was. "Why is someone named 'Mysterion' giving you guys gift certificates to Bennigan's?"

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the beginning of the author's note I put at the end of this story when I posted it on FFN four years ago:
> 
> Writing this story has been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I'm sure a few here can relate to having a story get inside their head the way this one did to me. It grew into something three times bigger than I ever imagined when I first began writing it; and I'm kind of sad to see it finally end. Even if I never write another word of fan fiction again (like that could ever happen), I'll be able to look back at this years from now and think of it as my Magnum Opus. Yeah, I love this story.
> 
> I may revisit this someday, and add a couple missing scenes I'd imagined for it that didn't make it to the final cut.
> 
> If anyone were tempted to create fan art for this, you'd be my new best friend ;) 
> 
> \----  
> I appreciate all the feedback this story has gotten over here. It was fun to breathe new life into it.
> 
> Two "missing scenes" coming soon; thank you for reading!


	17. Missing Scene - Last Cigarette

(Takes place midway through chapter 10)

Butters made baked ziti for dinner, and afterward they carried their dishes into the kitchen and rinsed them off in the sink. While Butters was stacking them in the dishwasher, Kenny went back into the living room and retrieved his pack of cigarettes.

He waited until Butters had closed the door and started the dishwasher before he sidled up next to him and put his arm over Butters' shoulder.

"Hey Butters…are you okay now?"

Butters nodded. "Yeah, Kenny…but oh geez, that was a really sad movie." He turned, resting his head on Kenny's shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you for being so nice to me afterward."

Kenny smiled, thinking about the sex they'd had an hour ago, just after they'd finished watching the movie _The Perfect Storm_. Butters had asked to have 'comfort sex' and it had been one of the most erotic yet tender moments they'd had together so far. "I'll comfort you that way anytime, dude," he said, kissing Butters cheek and taking a step back. "And, uh…" He fingered a single cigarette from the pack and gave the rest of them a mournful look. There was at least a dozen more still inside it. "I have a promise to keep, so I'm going to go out back and smoke this." He handed the pack of Marlboros to Butters. "Get rid of the rest of these for me, would you?"

Butters hesitantly took them. "Kenny, I know this is an awful lot to ask. You don't really have to quit—"

"Yeah…I do." His tone was firm, yet kind. "I made you a promise, and I'm going to do everything I can to keep it. I just really want you to remember what else I told you too, okay?"

Butters set the cigarettes on the counter and put his arms around Kenny again. "I will. But nothing bad is ever going to happen to you." He reached up to run his fingers through Kenny's hair. "We're going to be together for a long, long time."

Kenny leaned back to look Butters in the eyes. "I know." He smiled. "God, Butters…I can't even begin to tell you how much I love you."

"Oh, me too, Ken." Butters pulled him close again. "You're my whole life now…and you always will be."

Kenny reached up to cup Butters' head, sighing happily into his hair. "You too, man." They moved apart a long moment later, and Kenny looked out the kitchen window into the backyard. "Hey…I have a question. Do you want to keep that dog house back there? It might be kind of nice to get a dog someday, you know?"

"I'd love to get a puppy, Kenny." He joined Kenny in looking out the window. "But that dog house…I have a lot of really bad memories about it. It'd be okay with me if you smashed it up and we use it for firewood."

Kenny nodded. "All right…if that's what you want."

Butters took his hand and laced their fingers together. "Go have your cigarette, Kenny. I'm going to go see what's on TV."

Butters watched him walk out into the garage and trudge through the snow in their backyard toward the dog house a moment later, then looked down at the cigarette pack on the counter. He briefly considered stuffing it down the garbage disposal, and then thought it might be better just to hide them, in case Kenny's withdrawal symptoms got so bad that he absolutely had to have one in the next few days. He put them in the back of their junk drawer, put a dish rag over them, and went into the living room.

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny walked up to the dog house, crouched down and crawled inside. Snow had drifted through the door, covering half of the wood floor in a fine white powder. The wire cutters he'd used to free Butters from it a month ago were _still_ lying in the corner, and he picked them up and put them in his back pocket. The chain snaked across the floor, the jagged end where he'd cut it from the collar around Butters' neck ending in the far corner. He wondered how many terrifying and lonely nights Butters had spent in here, before Kenny had saved him from that life. It felt wrong inside here, malevolent, and he quickly crawled back outside and stood up.

He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. _This is your last cigarette, McCormick; you're gonna do this for him._ He exhaled and immediately took another drag, and as he eyed the doghouse, he had an idea. He leaned against its roof and tentatively tapped the side of it with the toe of his work boot. The cheap siding bowed in with even the slightest bit of pressure.

All too soon, he had smoked the cigarette down to the filter. "Fuck…" he whispered, taking one final drag and dropping it on the ground. He exhaled the smoke through his nose, regretting that this would be the last time he could enjoy that simple pleasure.

He looked around himself, at the neatly trimmed hedges and the back of their house. This was so much better than the weed filled yard and rotting house he'd lived in his whole life until a month ago. Life had never been this good. He had a warm home instead of a cold house to live in, and a wonderful friend and partner he couldn't imagine not being with.

The only thing he _didn't_ have right now was another cigarette to smoke and that thought alone was enough to make him crave another one already.

He looked at the doghouse again. It was obviously homemade, and not very well at that, judging from the crooked siding and badly mitered corners. If Butters wants firewood, it would be nothing to knock this poorly built thing apart.

Kenny's foot lashed out, connecting with the long side midway between the ground and the roof. The cheap plywood buckled with the first kick, and he kicked it again. And again. In three minutes the roof was sagging, and he had reduced one side of the doghouse to splinters. He stepped back, breathing hard and admiring his work, his nicotine craving momentarily forgotten.

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny cheated the next morning and had one cigarette that he bummed from Stan after walking to his house while Butters was out grocery shopping. He justified it by telling himself that he did it during a very stressful conversation with Stan and Kyle, and one that he knew was perhaps the most important conversations of his entire life.

0-0-0-0-0

Kenny wandered into the kitchen the next morning. It was Monday, a school day. Butters was breaking eggs into a frying pan and the smell of coffee filled the room. He put on the best smile he could muster as he sidled up to Butters and kissed his cheek, already reaching for the coffeepot.

"Hey Kenny." Butters' voice was both cheerful and cautious. He knew one of Kenny's favorite cigarettes was the first one of the day, and he was probably craving it.

"G'morning, Butterballs." Butters chuckled; it was Kenny's new favorite nickname for him. Kenny reached up into the cupboard, but instead of one of the regular coffee mugs he would normally use, he took out a large plastic Denver Broncos souvenir cup and filled it to the top with coffee. He wasn't just craving a cigarette, his body was demanding one and he was furious that he couldn't give himself what he wanted, and he needed to lash out at something. He was determined that no matter how bad it got, Butters would never be a target of his withdrawal-fueled rage. "I have to go outside for a few minutes…do I have time before breakfast?"

"Sure, Ken." There were seven eggs in the frying pan that he hadn't even started to cook yet. "We have lots of time before we have to leave for school." He picked up the pepper mill and cranked it over the eggs. "I can slow this down if you need a little more time." He looked back at Kenny, suddenly suspicious. "Kenny…?"

Kenny added three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the plastic cup. "Thanks, man. And ah, I'm not going outside to smoke if that's what you're thinking, and I would tell you if I was." He considered confessing yesterday's transgression and decided not to. "I think I've found kind of a substitute. I won't be long."

Butters nodded. "Okay, Ken."

Butters watched out the kitchen window as Kenny wandered into the backyard, sipping from the outsized cup. Kenny set the cup on top of the wood post that secured the other end of the chain and approached the doghouse. Butters' eyes widened and his jaw dropped as Kenny began kicking it repeatedly, reducing the front side of it to splinters and caving in its roof. He remembered what he had told Kenny about the doghouse last night and smiled.

Kenny came back inside just as Butters was dishing up eggs onto two plates. He was breathing hard. "Feel a little better now Ken?"

Kenny smiled. "You saw that, huh?"

Butters nodded. He set the frying pan on the counter and hugged him. "Whatever works, Kenny. Thank you for doing this for me. I know it isn't easy."

"Oh…" Kenny said, tilting his head down to press his nose against Butters' hair. He used apple scented shampoo, and it left a smell that Kenny loved. "You're so worth it, Butters."

Over the next three days, Kenny continued to go outside in the morning and several times in the afternoon to continue destroying the doghouse. By Thursday evening as he was finally carrying the broken pieces of the former doghouse to the garage to add to the woodpile, he realized his cravings, while still there, were getting more and more bearable.

He went inside and plopped down on the couch next to Butters. "You know…this is the first time in five days I haven't felt like punching a hole in the wall."

Butters grinned. "Or my head?"

Kenny pretended to be shocked. "Now, Leopold…You know I would never punch a hole in _your_ head."

"Ooh, _Leopold_. Now I know you're serious!"

Kenny laughed. "Yep! I like your head just the way it is; and I really think I've almost got my cigarette habit licked, Butters."

Butters put his arm around him and pulled him close. "That's wonderful, Kenny! I—I'm really proud of you." They cuddled quietly for a minute, ignoring the television. Butters finally broke their comfortable silence. "Hey, Ken? Speaking of things being licked…I think maybe you deserve a little reward for your efforts. What do _you_ think?"

Kenny looked at him, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Yes, please." A moment later they were hurrying up the stairs together, holding hands.

0-0-0-0-0

Eight years later, while they were cleaning and reorganizing their kitchen, Kenny found a half-empty pack of cigarettes, all the way at the back of the junk drawer underneath a dish towel. He pulled it out and looked at it wonderingly.

"Where in the hell oh kitty did _these_ come from?"

Butters turned to him curiously, running his fingers through his thinning hair. "I remember those! That was your last pack of cigarettes, Ken! I hid them there, the night you quit smoking. I must have forgotten all about them!"

"You didn't just get rid of them?"

Butters thought back to that night. "I almost put them down the garbage disposal, but thought maybe I'd better hang on to them for a while, in case you were going crazy from withdrawal or something." He looked down at the floor and rubbed his knuckles together, a habit he still had even in his mid-20s. "I—I would have given you one back then, if you'd really needed it."

"Well…it looks like I made it." Kenny smiled, then walked over the sink and pushed the cigarette pack past the rubber stopper into the garbage disposal. He turned on the faucet and then flipped the wall switch for the disposal on for two seconds and then off again. He turned to Butters. "Now it's official: I have given up cigarettes."


	18. Missing Scene - It's Time For You To Leave

(Takes place near the end of Chapter 11, 'Three Years Go By').

Kenny had the stereo in Butters' SUV turned up loud and he was singing along with Tom Petty at the top of his lungs. Butters wanted shelves in their office, so he'd gone to Home Depot for material, along with a quick stop at the grocery store. If Butters wanted shelves, Kenny was determined to build him the best shelves he'd ever seen.

As he butchered the lyrics to the song he was singing, his mind turned to something he'd picked up at the grocery store for later this evening. They had never used any kind of food products during their bedroom fun and games, but Kenny was sure Butters would go along with it (although he might insist on using the bathtub to avoid making a mess on their sheets).

" _ **Cuz' I'm free…free ballin'  
**_ _ **Yeah, I'm freeeee! …free ballin'"**_ __ **  
**

He reached out to turn down the stereo and lowered his own volume by half, having a great time. He'd be home in a minute, and the supplies would stay in the back of the truck until after he'd gone inside and gotten his hug. Life was good.

" _Gonna free ball…'longside of Butters  
_ _Gonna piss his… name in the snow…"_ __  


He was making up lyrics for the next two lines (something about how Butters' name had been pissed in the snow in Butters' own handwriting) when he stopped singing and turned the stereo off. There was an unfamiliar car parked in their driveway. Both his guard and his curiosity were up as Kenny parked alongside it. He spotted an 'Avis Rent-A-Car' sticker on its back bumper. Odd, they weren't expecting any visitors.

He looked at the cargo behind him: Several 1X6s, brackets, wood screws, paint, and a single bag from the grocery store; nothing that needed to come inside immediately. He climbed out and walked into the garage through the side door and made his way into the house, stepping into the utility room.

He was about to walk into the kitchen and announce he was home when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Butters! You _have_ to be reasonable about this!"

Oh shit…that was Stephen Stotch's voice. Butters' dad (and most likely his mom as well) were here. Kenny leaned against the wall separating him from the kitchen to listen.

"We're your family, Butters! You have to—"

"I _have_ a family, dad." Butters' voice was surprisingly strong. "A-and _this_ family didn't chain me up outside on a freezing cold night, or…or lock me in the basement with the lights off when I was eight years old…"

Butters' mother ( _yep, she's here too_ ) interrupted him. "Dad and I talked about that, Butters! We both agreed that dad won't be so… _harsh_ with you from now on—"

"Let me handle this, Linda." Kenny's fists clenched at his sides. He was torn between charging in there to help Butters, and seeing how he handled this on his own.

"No, dad…let _me_ handle this!" Butters said defiantly. Kenny smiled, proud of how strong he sounded. "You could have been convicted of child endangerment. I would've lost some of my toes to frostbite that night if someone hadn't have found me. But you got off Scott free, in exchange for this house, and agreeing to leave me alone. You're not even supposed to be near me! A-and you're never going to live here again!"

"Butters…" Stephen Stotch sounded confused. "We don't want to live here! We want you to sell this house and come back to Hawaii with us."

Kenny's anger was growing by the second, and he was again moments away from going inside and dragging his dad outside by the hair.

"Dad, that's never going to happen."

"Butters!" his mom cried, and he continued, his voice rolling right over her's.

"Mom, I love you; and dad…I love you too. But you know what? You both sucked as parents." Butters cleared his throat. "I have a family now. _Kenny_ is my family…and his sister Karen, and…well, even his parents and—"

"You're with Kenny Mc _Cormick?_ " Butters' mom screeched; Kenny winced. "We told you to stay away from him!"

"I'm past caring about what you tell me, mom. I—"

His father interrupted, "He almost blinded you, son!"

Kenny's eyes squeezed shut painfully at being reminded of that awful memory.

"Dad…that was an _accident_ …we were kids, we did stupid things back then. And he's apologized to me for that more times than anyone should ever have to."

"Kenny McCormick is nothing but trouble," his dad pronounced. "His entire family is nothing but trouble…"

"Okay dad, that's enough! If you're just going to sit in _my_ house a—and insult my family, then…mom…dad…it's time for you to leave."

There was a long moment of stunned silence before his father finally spoke. "I always knew you would end up living a deviant lifestyle someday."

"Yeah, dad…I guess the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."

Kenny almost lost it laughing, and turned quickly around and went outside before unleashing it. Butters had everything under control. He finally stopped laughing and turned back, opening the door and then closing it again, loudly enough to be heard throughout the house. "I'm home!" he called, making his way through the utility room into the kitchen just in time to see Butters' parents walking toward him and looking very unhappy, Butters bringing up the rear.

Kenny smiled at Butters' mom. "Hey, Linda." He turned toward his dad. "Hey, Steve!"

Stephen Stotch glared at him; Kenny met his gaze impassively as he walked over and put his arm around Butters. "Heya Butters."

"Hi Kenny!" Butters replied and hugged him as if his parents weren't standing six feet away. Linda was looking away, while his dad just looked uncomfortable. "My parents were just leaving."

"Aww!" Kenny said, feigning unhappiness. "Well, I'm sorry I missed you—" but they were already hurrying out the door.

0-0-0-0-0

Butters was subdued all through dinner; he'd given Kenny an abbreviated account of his parent's visit, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Kenny wanted desperately to cheer him up. They were cuddled up on the couch and it was nearly time for them to go upstairs for bed.

"Rough day, huh, Butters?" He gave Butters' shoulder a squeeze. "Anything I can do to make it better?"

"Oh, I—I'm all right, Ken. I kind of figured they'd come back and try something like that someday."

"Well, you really put your dad in his place! That line about the acorn not falling far from the tree? That was classic…" He trailed off, realizing he'd just revealed that he'd been eavesdropping on their conversation earlier.

Butters picked up on it immediately. "I knew you were there, Kenny," he said, finally smiling for the first time this evening.

Kenny was only mildly surprised by that admission. "Oh, you did, huh?"

"Why, sure! Just because both of my parents are completely oblivious doesn't mean _I_ am too!"

Kenny laughed. "The 'cluelessness' gene must be recessive I guess."

Butters nodded happily, nuzzling into Kenny's shoulder. "Wow…someone _was_ paying attention during high school biology class!"

"Well…enough to make a joke about a term I remembered years later anyway." He kissed Butters scalp and gave him a smile as he abruptly changed the subject. "Okay, so…I have a question."

Butters grinned, happy again and barely managing to not roll his eyes. "I bet you do." This was the beginning of one of their traditions: One of them would pose a question that they would pretend to discuss seriously for awhile; it always ended up with them naked in bed (or the shower, or the hot tub). Kenny had yet to come up with one that led to as much fun as the first one Butters had posed very early in their relationship ("Kenny? Did you know that Vaseline glows under a black light?") but Butters knew Kenny considered it a challenge to try.

Kenny grinned. "It's about that song you sing all the time. The 'lu lu lu' one? There's, like, one part of it I don't understand."

Butters nodded as if preparing to give this matter the gravity it deserved. "Okay, Ken…what part do you need help with?"

"All right…I get the first part, the part that goes Lu Lu Lu, I've got some apples." He wasn't singing the lyrics at all; he sounded more like a high school freshman reciting an essay aloud in class. "Lu, Lu, Lu, you've got some too…so by this, I gather that two people have been to the produce section of the local supermarket and bought themselves some apples."

Butters was trying not to laugh. "Well, yeah…or else they shoplifted them! I don't think that part of the song is really up for debate, Ken!"

Kenny chuckled. "All right…smart ass." Butters smirked. "Help me out with this next part though: Lu, Lu, Lu. Let's make some applesauce." Kenny put on his best confused look. "I guess this means the two people are going to put their apples together and toss them into a Cuisinart or something and make applesauce…right?"

Butters nodded. "Uh huh…they'd have to peel the skins off first, and maybe add a little bit of cinnamon…but yeah."

"Okay…well, it's the next part I'm not clear on. It goes: 'take off our clothes'." Kenny cocked his head. "And Lu." Kenny blinked and looked even more confused. "Lu…" Butters finally lost it under Kenny's serious gaze. "Lu." Kenny waited patiently for Butters to stop laughing enough to be able to reply.

"Well, Kenny…they're obviously going to get applesauce all over each other, and when they do, it would be really hard to clean out of their clothes."

Kenny looked pensive. "So… _that's_ why they take their clothes off? Because they might forget to put the lid on the Cuisinart and applesauce could fly everywhere?"

Butters nodded. "That's one possible explanation, I guess."

"Or they could get into an argument and start throwing it at each other?"

"There's a lot of things that could go wrong! That's why it's better for them to take their clothes off before making applesauce."

"Because they're worried about doing their laundry afterward?"

Butters laughed. "Yes, Kenny. It's all about making sure their clothes don't get ruined."

"All right. But what if, instead of taking their clothes off, they put on…I dunno, a raincoat and a pair of hip waders."

"Now you're just being silly, Ken."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Sure, and up until now this has been a highly intellectual discussion."

They laughed together, holding each other tightly. "Kenny…were you going anywhere with this?"

Kenny grinned. "Of course I was. You know when I went to Home Depot to get the stuff to build those shelves you want? I stopped at the grocery store and saw they were having a sale on large jars of applesauce." Butters' eyes widened in sudden comprehension. Kenny finished: "I immediately thought about you…and wondered what it would be like to see you completely covered in applesauce, and then lick it off of you. And I, ah, sort of bought four jars."

Butters jumped to his feet, grabbing Kenny's hand and pulling him up and dragging him toward the stairs. Kenny may have just bested his question about the fluorescent properties of petroleum jelly. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"


End file.
